


You Outshine the Morning Sun

by ladymac111



Series: as in a morning sunrise [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Fluff, POV Alternating, POV First Person, Parenthood, Post-Canon, Pregnancy, Present Tense, just the one sex scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-11-28 09:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11415015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymac111/pseuds/ladymac111
Summary: With their Defenders of the Universe days now a decade past, the former Yellow and Green paladins take on their next big mission: becoming parents.





	1. Chapter 1

_ October _

 

_ -Pidge- _

 

The blue line is strong and dark, absolutely conclusive.

My stomach twists. I'm having so many emotions right now I can't begin to parse them. I'm excited and relieved and terrified and sick with worry -- I'm pregnant again.

_ What if it's ectopic again?  And what if I waited too long to test? What would it even mean to have waited too long, is that a thing? _

Before the first one, when we were first trying, I tested every couple of weeks. I didn’t even wait to see if I missed a period, and we knew right away. But we couldn't have known at that point that it wasn’t viable -- it was too early. It was a full month later before we knew that our first baby would never be born.

This time ... this time it's like I didn't want to know.

I started feeling queasy on and off two weeks ago, which didn't happen with the first one. And then after a lifetime of clockwork menstruation I waited six days after my period should have started, and finally pulled out the pee sticks.

I haven't told Hunk anything yet.

I should have told him when I first suspected. We've been trying for three months now, actually trying again after two months of not-preventing, so it isn't like this is a surprise. If I'm being honest with myself, I've been pretty sure about it ever since the nausea started and brought breast tenderness along with it. And I  _ really _ ought to have told him when my period didn't come on time, it's not like I'm not convinced.  I’m _so_ sure about this, weirdly so, almost; plus I’m anxious enough about it to actually wake up before the sun, which I never do willingly. I absolutely have to tell Hunk now. He's still sleeping, out in the bedroom.

He'll like waking up to this. I'm sure he will, he has to, he must. We've been trying for three months -- well, all things considered, for almost a year. He wants to be a father so, _ so  _ badly, even more desperately than I want to be a mom.

I stand up, lift the toilet lid and check behind me to be sure I flushed, and of course I did, I'm just anxious. A lump rises in my throat and I swallow it down as hard as I can. The nausea has only gotten more over the past week, which I suppose is a good sign, hormonally speaking. It's not bad right now, though, not really; this is nerves, it's only nerves, right? I'm not sure if I'm ready to completely admit that this is morning sickness. I think I might have to do it anyway.

The sun isn't up quite yet, but the sky is starting to get light. I can see well enough in the bedroom as I go over to Hunk's side of the bed and sit down by his knees, setting my hand on his hip. "Hey."

He groans, curls into the blanket for a moment before he blinks up at me. "Hey?"

"Good morning."

He rubs at his eyes. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. I just have something for you."

He yawns.  "You have something for me before dawn?"

"Yeah." I hold up the stick. "This."

He squints at it, and it's beyond obvious the moment he realizes what he's looking at because he shoves the blanket aside and sits up so fast he almost head-butts me in his haste to grab the stick. "Holy shit, is this real?"

"Of course it's real. I peed on it myself."

"Oh my god." He throws his arms around me, and he's warm and still smells like sleep and suddenly I feel immensely reassured: I'm not alone at all, he's with me and we're going to do this together.

"It's going to stick this time," I whisper into his shoulder.

He shudders, and I think it might be a laugh. "Don't jinx it, Pidge."

"It's already happened, whatever it is. Wherever it implanted."

He leans back with a huge smile on his face. "I really hope this is it."

"Me too."

He pulls me into a kiss and I let him draw me down into the blankets, a warm nest of comfort and happiness and that kind of pure, blissful hope that only he has ever given me.


	2. Chapter 2

_December_

 

_-Pidge-_

 

I shift my weight awkwardly, trying to angle my bare belly in a way that I think might look good on camera. The sun on this lovely Hawaiian beach is blinding, and it's warm enough that I'm already starting to sweat. "Do we really have to do this photo?"

"Of course we do,” Hunk says confidently. “We'll need to embarrass her when she's a teenager."

"We don't know it's a girl."

"I know, I'm just hoping." He puts his hand on my waist, and sets the other on the gentle swell of my baby bump; his palm is so big he almost envelops it completely. "How should we have our hands?"

"Put yours down lower," Hunk’s aunt Keiko says, critically eyeing the display on her camera. "And Pidge, rest your hand on top. Kind of like, over his fingers."

I do as she says, and she smiles gently. "That's lovely. Now both of you keep your bodies still and turn your heads towards me."

I'm feeling incredibly self-conscious -- I don't mind wearing a bikini, really, and this week I have been enjoying showing off that I finally look pregnant instead of just bloated. But a posed photo of Hunk touching me so intimately is a little much. Plus he's wearing his absolute favorite Christmassy aloha shirt which is tacky beyond belief, but I suppose it really does make the image.

Keiko clicks the shutter several times, moving around a bit as she does. Then she spends a minute squinting at the screen, and re-positions us slightly, then goes through it all again.

The second time she pauses, I tip my head into Hunk's shoulder. "It's hot out," I whine, and he laughs and tightens his arms around me.

"I know. But at least it's not raining? That's why we drove all the way out here to the leeward side of the island."

"Is it raining in Hilo today?"

He shrugs. "I dunno, probably. It's December."

"There was rain in the forecast," Keiko says.

"That drive out here was something, though. I didn't expect it to look so desert-y."

"The Big Island has everything," Keiko says proudly, still snapping photos. "Did the desert make you feel at home?"

"No. Made me feel carsick." We had to pull over a couple of times on the drive, just when I'd thought my morning sickness was finally behind me.

Hunk chuckles, and moves his hand from my waist to my shoulder. Keiko's shutter clicks several times in a rapid burst. "Yeah, the saddle road is tough," Hunk says gently. "The elevation change really gets you. But we're planning to go back the long way, on the belt road at sea level, and there are lots of places we can stop to take breaks."

"Including Hawaii Volcanoes National Park," Keiko says. "I haven't been in forever. We have time for that, right?"

Hunk nods. "We don't really have a time we need to be back, and we can get dinner on the road if we take a while."

"I want sufganiyot," I say, and Hunk laughs.

"I'm not sure we'll be able to find those here."

"You're going to make me latkes though, right?"

"Of course, it's not Hanukkah without latkes. If I'm doing that tonight we'll want to be quicker getting home, probably head to the park right after lunch."

"I want to see it after dark," I interject, forgetting for a moment about seasonal food. "I heard you can see the glow of the lava."

Hunk's face lights up. "Oh yeah, I've heard that too, I forgot! Down in the caldera. I've never been at night before. So, like, we can do that, it just means I probably won't be up for frying potatoes tonight."

I shrug. "That's okay. Hannukah is eight nights, after all."

His voice takes on a hesitant tone. "You won't get too tired from a whole day of doing tourist stuff?"

"I'm not driving, and I don't have anything I need to do. I can just zonk out in the car if I have to."

He wraps his arms fully around me and nuzzles the side of my neck. "Rest all you need to take good care of our little one."

I twist just so, and kiss his temple.  His skin is soft and dry, and he smells nice, like his conditioner, and there's a hint of peanut butter from the granola bar he ate half an hour ago.  I take a moment to ignore my warm-weather discomfort and just enjoy the way he’s holding me.

Keiko is watching us with a soppy smile when I turn my attention back to her, and she holds the camera out. "That last one is the winner," she says, handing it to me. "The way you're looking at each other."

I try to shade the display with my hand so I can actually see it -- the sun is _awfully_ bright today, and I'm glad Hunk insisted I put on sunblock while we were still in the car because I would be completely roasted otherwise. In the photo, I barely even look uncomfortable, and I definitely look pregnant.  Hunk looks lovestruck.  "That is really cute."

I pass the camera to Hunk, and the look that comes over his face makes the whole excursion worth it, even despite the hot sun and gritty sand and dry-heaving at elevation. I've never been prouder that I get to be the one to make him a father.


	3. Chapter 3

_December_

 

_-Pidge-_

 

Two years ago Matt and Shiro finally bought their dream house, in the foothills above Salt Lake City. It's a gorgeous house, perfect for entertaining, and Matt loves hosting, so whenever there's a get-together it's always at their place. Hunk loves it too -- the kitchen is stunning, even nicer than ours, and the view through the great room windows is breathtaking. Plus Matt and Shiro always let Hunk cook, because why would anyone _not_ let Hunk cook for them?  It’s only unfortunate that we don’t get up here that frequently.

Right now, in this weird week between Christmas and New Year, Keith and Lance are in town for some reason involving HQ, plus it's only a couple of weeks until Hunk's birthday, so we absolutely had to all get together. It's been ... years, probably. I'd have to think to remember the last time we were all in one place. It can't have been as long ago as Lance and Keith's wedding, that's been six years already.... Or maybe that’s just the last time it was all of us with Coran and Allura?  I really can't think of it, but there’s no way it’s been six years. I hate a bit that _pregnancy brain_ is a real thing, I can’t keep a damn thought in my head.

Shiro meets us at the door, and I'm thrown for a moment because he's not wearing his right arm, and the sleeve of his shirt is neatly folded up and pinned to his shoulder. I don't get a chance to say anything, though, because as soon as he shouts that we're here we get mobbed by Lance, Keith, and Shiro's dog Katsu, a huge fluffy Pyrenees who's still young enough that she doesn't quite know her own size.

Hunk adores that dog, and he kneels down for slobbery kisses even before he takes his coat off. I'm hit with a tidal wave of love that I'm sure is at least fifty percent hormonal, and have to blink back tears while Lance takes my coat.

"You okay, Pidge?"

I look up at him and grin. "I'm great. What about you, Solymar, staying out of trouble?"

"Mostly."

Keith scoffs loudly, and Shiro laughs. "Come on through, guys, your timing is perfect.  Matt just opened the wine."

Matt is sitting at the kitchen counter, and raises a glass to us. "Hey, it's my little sis and brother-in-law! Glad you could make the twenty-minute drive. Hope it wasn't too far."

I wave my middle finger at him. "Get fucked, Matt."

He tips his head back and laughs. "Never change, Pidgey. Can I get you some wine? I'm on pouring duty tonight and Shiro is doing the walking around." I wondered why he didn't come to greet us -- he must be having mobility issues today. He still does, all these years later.

Hunk is already inspecting the bottles -- he's distracted, and we've missed our first opportunity. "How's this zin?" he asks my brother.

"Full-bodied," Matt says, taking it and pouring. "I got it specifically for your birthday, I think you'll love it. Happy however old you're gonna be in a few weeks."

Hunk grins and takes the glass. "Thirty-seven this time."

"Right on," Matt says. "Catching up to me.  Pidge, want one too? Even though it's not your birthday for a few months."

Hunk looks at me then, eyebrows raised, and my heart pounds. "No, um." I pause, and that's enough to get everyone's eyes on me. My mouth goes dry, and I look at Hunk.

He reaches out and takes my hand, warm and grounding. "We actually have an announcement."

Matt's eyes are huge, and I get the feeling he guessed already. Maybe he saw and put it together; I did intentionally wear one of my new tops today that makes it more obvious. I squeeze Hunk's fingers and run my other hand down over the swell of my belly. "I'm pregnant. We're going to have a baby."

Lance and Keith whoop in unison, and Lance envelops me in a hug, then quickly Hunk, and a moment later both of us together, at which point Shiro and Keith have joined in. "Oh my god, congratulations," Lance says, and he sounds a little like he's crying.

I extract myself gently, leaving them with Hunk, and go around the counter to my brother. He throws his arms around me and buries his face in my shoulder. "Pidge, oh my god," he breathes. "I'm gonna be an uncle?"

"You sure are."

"Wow." He leans back a little, and sets his fingertips tentatively on the sides of my belly. "When?"

"May."

Shiro has joined us now, at Matt's elbow, looking amazed. "So you're, what, four months now?"

"Nineteen weeks," Hunk says, with Lance and Keith both still hanging off him. "Closing in on halfway, so it's not bad luck to make it public."

"I did tell mom and dad already," I say apologetically. "Right before Thanksgiving, when I got to the second trimester. And we told Hunk's family when we were out on Hawaii.  But we wanted to wait to tell all of you together, in person."

"That's okay," Matt says gently. "At least you didn't tell mom and dad, like, immediately.  That would’ve stung a little."

I shake my head. "No, we didn't tell anyone until just recently." I take a steadying breath -- it doesn't feel like tempting the wrath of the whatever to share this any more, but I'm still having feels about it. "We did have one back in February that wasn't viable, we had to terminate at seven weeks. That's why you don't tell until later."

Shiro leans heavily on the counter. "Oh my god, you lost a pregnancy and didn't tell anyone?"

"It was an abortion," I say, trying to make myself feel clinical, not emotional. It's not easy. "It was ectopic, it was already dying, and it would have been an even bigger problem if we hadn't. Mom and Dad knew about that when it happened. And Hunk's mom."

Matt gets a horrified look on his face. "That's why you were sick last February."

I glance at Hunk, who's looking with focus down into his wine -- I know he's trying not to remember, trying not to cry. "Yeah. The-- the abortion didn't go smoothly, it happened pretty late, considering. I wound up in the ER after I lost a lot of blood. But I recovered." I feel a little bad that I never told Matt about that.

"But this one's good, right?" Keith says nervously. "You're okay? It's sticky?"

"Perfectly healthy," Hunk says, and the speed of his answer betrays his anxiety. "And in the correct location."

"And you're okay?" Matt asks me.

"Yeah, I'm good. It was a little rough at first but I'm doing great now."

"Rough? Rough how?"

I wave my hand in what I hope is a dismissive way. "You know, just morning sickness."

Hunk lets out a wry sort of laugh. "And afternoon, and evening...."

"It wasn't that bad."

"There were a couple days I couldn't get you to eat at all. You lost three kilos."

"But I never missed work."

He rolls his eyes. "That's a testament to your pigheadedness, not your physical condition."

"In any case, it's over and now I'm hungry like all the time. I've gained back all the weight I lost and then some."

"I thought you were looking chubby," Matt teases, the concern finally dropping off his face.

"Good healthy baby weight," Hunk says decisively. "And we were both big when we were born, so I'm expecting this baby will be big too."

"Ugh, don't say that already," I complain, rubbing my bump. "The doctor told me yesterday I'm measuring a week ahead. I got a small pelvis, I don't know how big of a baby I can take. The birth will be like _Alien_."

Matt guffaws. "I'm telling Mom you said that."

"Tell her whatever you want, dickbag, she'll be in the room when it happens, and she cleaned the blood out of my bathroom when my tube ruptured."

Lance snickers. "You called him dickbag."

"I'm a little concerned about this _Alien_ reference," Keith says.

"You'll be more concerned after you google _episiotomy_ ," Hunk says. "My mom had one with me and she's never let me live it down."

"Jesus, Hunk, too graphic." I lean my elbow on the counter. "I can't have wine so don't make me want it this bad, okay?"

"Sorry, babe." He leans over the counter and kisses me quickly. "Let's get you a drink. Shiro, you got fizzy water?"

Shiro steps around me and pulls open the fridge, then props the door on his shoulder and goes for a rummage with his arm. "Yeah, we’ve still got cans of the grapefruit stuff you brought last time."

"That's good." I like the fruity fizzy water, though I hate a little bit that Hunk has got me calling it that. I've been drinking it for a while, ever since we started trying to conceive. In the past I've passed it off as just being the designated driver, and I'm glad I don't have to pretend any more. Shiro tosses the can to Matt, who catches it neatly, and then laughs.

"I just had a thought," he says, popping the can open and pouring it. "I was about to say you should remember to avoid actual grapefruit because it interferes with metabolizing oral birth control, but since you're already pregnant it doesn't matter."

I smile at him and take my drink. "Yup. Did you think of that one before? Could've been a clue we were trying, except that my birth control wasn't oral."

"Well, that’s TMI.  But anyway, there isn't any real grapefruit in this."

Lance suddenly appears and shoves between me and my brother, and his face is flushed with excitement. "Pidge. I'm gonna knit for the baby."

Hunk laughs. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Not that much."

"Enough," Keith mutters with a little smile.

"No, but I'm really gonna. Five months is enough time to make a blanket. Probably."

"Remember that pair of socks you promised me three years ago?" Keith says.

"I'm working on them. You just have freakishly huge feet."

"Do not!" Keith gives him a fierce scowl.

"This has a deadline, so I have to do it." Lance turns back to me. "Boy or girl?"

I do my best to raise one eyebrow, though I'm never sure if I manage it. "You know I'm genderqueer."

He rolls his eyes with a smile. "I mean the baby."

"We don't know yet," Hunk says. "And obviously nothing is going to be super gendered until they're old enough to have their own preferences."

Lance sighs dramatically. "What color yarn should I use?"

"Whatever you like," I say, and I try to sound gentle. "It'll be wonderful no matter what. A one-of-a-kind Lance creation for the very first Voltron baby."

 

_-Hunk-_

 

"Is it weird if I say you're glowing?" Lance drawls.

Pidge laughs and tips her head back against my shoulder, and I tighten my arm around her, pressing my hand protectively against her belly.  Lying around after dinner is always my favorite part of the evening here, in no small part because everyone unwinds after a good meal, and the conversation flows freely; we get to feel that closeness that’s been hard to maintain After Voltron.

Keith rolls his eyes at Lance, but there’s fondness in his voice. "That's such a cliche. You're only saying it because you know she's pregnant and you're kind of drunk."

"Am not, it's totally true." He points at Matt and Shiro, who are sitting on top of each other in a big chair and being absurdly cute. "Back me up, dudes."

Shiro shrugs. "I dunno, man."

"You're definitely a little drunk, though," Matt says.

"I'm not glowing, I'm just greasy," Pidge says, a note of whining in her voice. "Hormonal changes or whatever. And I've got like five giant pimples right now."

"They're not that big," Lance says.

Keith immediately adds, "I only see two."

"I didn't say they were all on my face."

I can't help laughing; she's showed me the other three, and they're in places that nobody but me and medical professionals ever _will_ see. I do feel a bit bad for her, though, because they're huge and deep and I know they hurt.

"Your hair looks great too, though," Matt says. "That's not just grease."

"That'll be the prenatal vitamins," Pidge says, flipping her hair -- she had it short again for a while but she’s been growing it out for almost a year now, and it’s down to her shoulders, curly and silky and shining golden. "My nails have been crazy good too, usually they peel and chip all winter."

"I should get some of those." Matt runs his hand through his hair, and Shiro brushes a kiss to his chin. "I've been so frizzy."

"You look great," Shiro murmurs.

"That's because it's so damn dry here," Lance whines. "Come visit us in San Francisco, we've got fog every day. The humidity is amazing."

"Plus it doesn't get cold," Keith adds. "It's basically the perfect city."

Pidge laughs. "I don't know, after last week I think Hilo kind of wins perfect city for me."

God, I absolutely _adore_ her. I lean in to press a kiss to her temple, and Keith and Lance make some sort of noise in unison that's half _aww_ and half groan.

“Hilo’s barely even a town,” Keith teases.

"Hawaii was nice, huh?" Shiro asks with a little smirk.

"Hawaii is literally paradise," Pidge says wistfully. "And, you know, my mother-in-law totally loves me. I always get completely pampered."

"She had it turned up to eleven this time," I say. "She's _super_ pumped to be a grandmother. Telling her that we're expecting is basically the best present we'll ever give her."

She drops her head back against my shoulder and looks up at me. "I think actually having the baby will be the real best thing."

"Ah, touché."

“So,” Shiro says, leaning forward around Matt, “I gotta know, have you felt the baby kick yet?  I don’t know when that happens.”

“I have,” Pidge says, sounding very pleased.  “About a week ago.  I wasn’t sure at first, it’s not strong yet, but I’m sure now that it’s her moving around.”

“Her?” Lance says, and I can’t help laughing a little.

Pidge groans.  “God, Hunk, you’ve got me doing it now.”

“I have a feeling it’ll be a girl,” I say.  “I haven’t felt her kick yet, though.  It’ll probably be another few weeks.”

"What are you guys going to do after the baby's born?" Keith asks. "I mean, like, with your jobs."

"I'm only teaching one class this semester, and advising eight seniors, and then I'll be on medical leave for at least six weeks after the birth," Pidge says. "And I'm due right before the end of the term, so the timing really couldn't be better. Well, maybe not for my seniors.  But we're both planning to take the entire summer completely off."

"I'll still have to finish with my classes," I add. "Those last couple of weeks are going to be awful, if I have to be at work after the baby comes."

Shiro gets one of the softest looks on his face that I've ever seen. "You're going to be such a great dad."

I can feel myself blushing, and I hope it's not enough to show on my face. "I hope so. Our plan is that I'm going to be a full-time stay-at-home dad until the kid is old enough for school, and then probably go back to teaching part-time."

"That's perfect!" Matt says. "I mean, no offense, Pidge, but I don't see you as the full-time parent."

She looks up at me through her eyelashes and grins. "Yeah, I know. We're a good pair that way. And Hunk already does the bulk of the housekeeping, so that part won't be a huge adjustment."

"They've been begging me to stay on, though," I say. "In like, a super part-part-part-time sort of thing, research and advising. But I don't know if I'll be able to handle any work at all with a baby, and I certainly don't want to."

"Must be flattering that they love you, though," Lance says, and he's absolutely right.

"You're really indispensable in the Engineering department," Pidge says fondly. "Sucks for them that you're even more indispensable at home."

"They can manage. Plus you got me first."

"Sure did. They didn't even want you when I got you. Suckers."

I twist so I can kiss her. Sometimes, after all these years, I'm still struck by how completely I love her, and recently I also find myself overcome with emotion when I remember that her child is half made of me. Our child, _my_ child -- it's still hard to think that way, even when I know it's true. But when I look at her and I see her belly poking out, see the way she touches it, the other changes that are happening to her body ... there's a part of me that persists in thinking of it as _her_ baby. I have to remind myself that I helped make it, that we're doing this together even though it's her body taking on the difficult job at the beginning.

"So, I'm feeling like I want something sweet," Pidge says, and looks up at me. "You're going to make dessert, right?"

"I am, but it'll take a while. I can't do it in less than an hour."

"You're hungry again already?" Matt says, incredulous, and Pidge rubs her belly dramatically.

"Baby's hungry."

I smile and press a kiss to her cheek, and then shift her off me and get up. "I'll start baking.  I hope you guys like chocolate souffle.”

Lance twists to watch me as I go into the kitchen.  “I’ve never had it.”

“Good.”  I wink at him, and share a grin with Pidge.  “Because I’ve never made it so I don’t know how it’ll turn out.”


	4. Chapter 4

_ January _

_ -Pidge- _

 

I look out at my students -- this class is full, a dozen and a half registered, and all but one are here already, so I decide to get started even though it's still a couple minutes early.

I stand up from behind the desk, and they all turn to look. There are a few who I recognize from CS276 in the fall semester, and several who I think look familiar because they were in Hunk's Altean tech workshop that I dropped in on periodically.

"Good morning, cadets, and welcome to Galra comp sci."

The ones who have had me before say good morning back, and the rest of them look a little intimidated -- I know they've heard about me, and I know I have a reputation as something of a hard-ass. The ones who last saw me in November are beginning to get slightly odd looks on their faces -- they've just noticed the thing about me that's different. By now, at twenty-one weeks, it's becoming obvious, and since I'm not an officer and don't have to wear a uniform, I intentionally dressed today to emphasize it: stretchy maternity pants (quickly becoming my favorite) with a cabled sweater that normally has a bit of positive ease around my waist, but no longer.

"First off, have to address the elephant in the room." I run my hand over my belly and pause; there's a tiny bit of nervous laughter, just as I'd hoped. "I'm pregnant, and I'm due two weeks before the end of the semester. So that means there won't be any last minute office hours, you need to make sure you're on top of the material before then. There will not be a final exam, but you will each complete a project, and I expect them all to be compelling enough to be worth the time I have to take away from my newborn child to read them."

More nervous laughter, and I grin at them. "So!" I clap my hands, and one sleepy-looking boy in the back startles. "Let's get started. The learning curve is pretty steep at the beginning, but at least you have a textbook. Makes it a lot easier."

Laughter again, and not as nervous this time. I know they all know how  _ I  _ had to learn all of this; the whole Team Voltron thing is a required course for all new cadets, which is still surreal to me. Every person on campus has seen those awkward pictures of me from when I was seventeen, with that terrible bathroom haircut and too-big glasses -- I can always see the gears turning when a cadet meets me for the first time, putting together that Professor Holt is Pidge, The Green Paladin -- just twenty years older now. Plus, you know, the cover of the textbook for this course says  _ Holt & Kealoha _ in inescapably large type, so I'm not exactly a surprise. Hunk and I are still the world's leading experts on Galra computers and technology, which is something we expect our students to know when they register for our courses.

The door opens just as I switch on the screen, and a girl comes in, eyes wide and hair wild (technically out of uniform, though I’m not going to write her up) -- I recognize her both from my course and from Hunk's, and I know she's a brilliant engineer. I want to say her name is Cohen? I really ought to remember. God, I'm continually appalled that  _ pregnancy brain _ is a real thing.

"Oh my god," she whispers, freezing when she sees me. "Am I late on the first day?"

"Not yet," I say, raising an eyebrow. "Have a seat, we're just starting."

She slips into a seat in the front row, next to another girl who murmurs to her briefly while I'm opening my presentation. I'm pretty sure I hear one of them say  _ pregnant _ , and I can't help smiling to myself. I was only just three months along when the last semester ended just before Thanksgiving, and successfully hid my morning sickness from everyone.  And now I'm showing, and telling everyone is really a lot of fun. Bonus, I think Hunk is enjoying it even more than I am. The way he lights up when he tells someone he's going to be a father, it's obvious he's never been happier in his life.

"Okay, chapter one," I say. "If any of you had a look at this in advance you'll be glad you did, because the first thing you'll notice about Galra computers is that the writing is all in Galra, so we'll learn that as quickly as we possibly can and then get into the interesting parts."

A hand goes up from the second row, a young woman I don't recognize. I nod at her to ask her question. "Cadet...?"

"Hardison, Professor."

"Hardison. Go ahead."

"Is Galra writing like Altean?"

"Yes and no. The vowels are the same and many of the consonants are similar, but just like English they prefer to use the more uncommon ones as variables, and those are different between the two languages. If you can read some Altean you've got a head start, though, especially once we get into the actual program language."

"Will we actually have to write it?" asks a boy who looks almost too young to be here, and I try not to be reminded of myself. "Or is it all going to be typed?"

"And your name is?"

"Zehfus."

"All right, Cadet Zehfus. If you asked Professor Kealoha he'd say you should learn to write it by hand, but to be honest I've never found a need for it." Hunk apparently has fond memories of his high school  _ sensei _ leading the class in writing Japanese in the air. He also leaves me ridiculously sappy love notes written in Galra, which is something I'm definitely not sharing with the class. Or anyone, really. Keith knows, and that's already too much. Besides, I'm sure he's told Lance, and anything Lance knows Shiro knows, even though we don't all see each other that much any more.  At least I know Shiro is capable of keeping one or two secrets from my brother.

Seeing them last week was like finally coming home. I couldn't put my finger on the feeling at the time, because it was so overwhelming, and then right after Lance and Keith left again the  _ lack  _ of them was overwhelming too. But I talked it out with Hunk, and it was a big relief to find out that he felt the same and it wasn't just me being ridiculously emotional. (It was that too, but it wasn't  _ only _ that.)

That thing we all went through together occasionally comes back and reminds me how absolutely huge it was. It's been enough years now that life on Earth is feeling normal, but it very nearly never happened at all. The relationship we all formed with each other is unique, indescribable.

To be honest, despite how certain Hunk and I are about wanting to become parents, there was a part of me that felt like it would be impossible without the whole team.  Now that we’ve told them, now that they know, the fear is gone -- they’re in this with us.  Even though Lance and Keith are rarely ever here because of their schedules, us growing the family will make for more excuses for them to come, and for us to go out to California.

I refocus on my class, on alien language.  My struggles to focus are apparently not improving.

  
  


_ -Hunk- _

 

My Monday morning workshop this semester is an advanced one, nine seniors, which means I know all of my cadets already and I get a chorus of “Hi, Mr. K” when I come into the laboratory.  I’m a couple minutes late, since I saw Pidge to her classroom first, but it’s obvious nobody minds.

“Hey guys, ready for your last tech workshop of your academic careers?”

I get a few groans, and one cheer -- Cadet Higurashi is the hardest worker I’ve ever seen and she’s clearly desperate to start actually making a difference on a crew.  I have a feeling already that she’ll be my top student this semester.

“So real quick before we get started, I do have a personal announcement.”  My hands want to shake, and I press my palms on my thighs.  “So, Dr. Holt and I are expecting a baby in May.”

There’s a chorus of excited noises, and then Cadet Jensen puts his hands flat on the workbench with a little  _ smack  _ and leans forward.

"Wait, hold up. You and Dr. Holt are  _ married? _ "

I very nearly laugh. "Yeah, for ten years now. Don't they cover that in Voltron 101?"

He shakes his head. "I mean, they do? Right side and left side both paired off. But I guess I never put it together that was you and her."

Cadet Higurashi suddenly looks like she got hit with a clue-by-four. "The scary comp sci professor is  _ the green paladin? _ "

"She's not scary," Jensen says.

"Uh, yes she is." Higurashi turns back to me. "So, you two were the left side of Voltron, and then you got married, and now you both teach alien tech here at the Academy."

I raise my eyebrows. "If you're going to sum up half my life in one sentence, that's how you'd do it."

"And now she's having your baby."

"Yes, as I said, we're having a baby."

"Are you nervous?" Cadet Brown chimes in, and I turn to him.

"I'm not exaggerating when I say I've never been more terrified in my life."

He raises his eyebrows. "More than when you were in Voltron?"

"Yeah.  This is … I can’t explain it.”  I shrug.  “Pidge gets me.  Anyway, what this really means is that if you like my courses you should all be glad that you're about to graduate, because this is my last semester here for the foreseeable future. When the baby comes I'm gonna go on a long-term leave of absence to be a stay at home dad.”

Cadet Goldman suddenly looks stricken.  “For how long?”

God, that’s right -- Pidge likes to point out Goldman’s enormous crush on me that I seem to miss most of the time.  “Not sure yet.  Three or four years, at least.  Until they start school.”

“What do you care?” Cadet Mensah says to Goldman.  “We won’t be here any more.”

Goldman blushes and starts to stammer something, which means it’s time for me to get us back on track.

“Anyway, enough of that.  We have a lot of material to cover, so let’s get going.  Your first engine is from an Altean shuttle that Dr. Holt grafted a stealth module onto, so get ready to bang your heads against her wiring choices for the next couple of hours.”

Jensen gives me a look as they all start moving to take out their equipment.  “She can’t be that bad.”

I do actually laugh this time.  “Just because I married her doesn’t mean she’s above criticism for stupid engineering.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter with the sex, so, yeah.

_ February _

_ -Hunk- _

 

Pidge is understandably tired when we get home from work on Friday afternoon, and goes to flop on the couch while I linger in the entryway, hanging up my coat and putting our wet shoes on the tray so there’s less dried salt to clean off the tile later.  “Are you hungry?” I call to her.

“No.  I had a snack during my office hours.”

“Okay.”  I had a snack too, so I don’t need to get started on dinner yet.

I join her on the couch, and she leans into me with a deep sigh.  “What a week.”

“I know, right?  How many staff meetings do we need to have?”

“It’s dumb that we even had to go to half of them.  Should’ve just been officers.  I would have used that time for grading.”

“Yeah.  As it is I’m going to spend the weekend reviewing project proposals.”

“Ugh, I don’t envy you.  My class isn’t starting their projects for another two weeks.”  She shifts herself in an uncomfortable way, pressing a hand to her belly.

“Doing okay?”

“I’m good, she’s just having a dance party on my kidneys.”

I smile and set my cheek on the top of Pidge’s head.  “Can I feel?”

“Of course.”  She pulls her sweater up to below her bust, and pushes the stretchy waistband of her pants down, exposing her belly.  It’s getting very round now, at twenty-eight weeks -- officially the third trimester.

I set my hand on Pidge’s belly, and I can feel the wiggling inside.  “Hey, baby.  How was your week?”

There’s a kick directly to my hand, and Pidge and I both laugh.  “She had to sit through those staff meetings with us,” Pidge says.  “I guess she doesn’t like them either.”

“Can’t blame her.  Do you think she’ll learn to recognize Fleming’s voice while she’s in there?”

“God, I hope not.  I wish  _ I  _ didn’t recognize Fleming’s voice at this point.  He needs to learn how to shut the hell up.”

“Does she know me?”

Pidge’s smile gets huge and soft.  “I think so.  I  _ hope  _ so.”

I lean down so my face is close to our baby.  "My father wasn't around," I whisper. "I promise I'll be around for you."

The baby kicks vigorously, and Pidge makes a breathless  _ oof _ and presses her hand to the top of the bump. "I guess she likes the sound of that."

I chuckle and kiss Pidge's skin, then sit up and lay my cheek on her shoulder, biting down on my emotions so I don’t just start sobbing. The baby keeps wiggling inside, under our hands.  Now is one of those times that I can barely believe we’re doing this, that we’re having a baby together, that I’m going to have a  _ daughter _ .

Of course, in all of this I can’t help thinking about how my own father abandoned me.  I hardly ever think about him, I never knew him, he left when I was three months old.  But now, with my own fatherhood about to begin, I can’t help being impressed by my mom, by how much she did to take care of me all by herself.  And she was wonderful, but I’d never do that to Pidge.  I’d never do that to our child.

We stay like that for quite a while, Pidge running her hand through my hair while I stroke her belly. Eventually the baby stops moving, probably tired from dancing, and I try to imagine how she's positioned inside.  I guess we’ll find out tomorrow at the scan.

"I can't wait until you're a father," Pidge whispers.

I rub my hand over her skin. "I am already."

She laughs, and all three of us jiggle. "Not really. Not until you can hold her. It's all me for a while yet."

I lift my head off her shoulder and kiss her. "I helped make her, though."

She smiles against my lips. "Yes, you definitely did. And you did an excellent job."

I slide my hand around to her hip, pulling her even closer, and she opens her mouth and moans a little. I was almost surprised right after the new year when she suddenly started trying to get in my pants after she spent the first trimester feeling gross all the time. But apparently this is common thing, for the second trimester to make her interested in sex again. And the timing is great, because I don't think I've ever found her more attractive than I have the last few months, while she’s growing my child inside her.  I’m glad we’ve been taking a lot of pictures.

She spreads her legs and pulls on me, indicating in a beautifully un-subtle way exactly what she wants from me. I lift up slightly, careful not to squish her. "On the couch? You sure?"

"I don't care," she gasps. "I just want you in me."

"Oh, Jesus." Fuck, how is she doing this to me? I haven't been this easily turned-on since we were like twenty years old and our relationship still sometimes felt new. I kiss her again and try to keep my mind off the logistics of our bellies for another minute or so, and just enjoy the sensation of intimacy with her.

She's impatient, though, and makes an irritated noise in her throat before she breaks away, lifts herself up and pushes me back into the couch, then throws her leg over me so she's straddling me as best she can with both of our bellies getting in the way. "This won't work," I whisper.

"So what?" She takes my face in her hands and kisses me deeply, and I try to shift my knee between her thighs to press where I know she wants the contact.

"This won't satisfy you."

"Maybe." She's getting breathless. "Mmm. Feels good, though."

"God, Pidge." She can get herself close enough to  _ almost _ touch my cock, and the absence of her is getting to be too much. "I really want to just … fuck you senseless."

She nips at my lip, and my blood surges inside me.  Her voice is low and rough: "I love when you talk dirty."

I shift her off to the side and get up, but instead of lowering myself over her I slide to my knees between her legs and pluck at the waistband of her pants. She grabs them and pulls them down, and after an awkward moment she gets them off and kicks them halfway across the room. I peel her underwear off, and the smell of her cunt is intoxicating; I lean in and kiss her there. I'm rewarded with a desperate-sounding moan, and she presses her hips up into me.

As her voice grows breathier and more desperate, I shift so I can press two fingers inside her. She clenches around me immediately and cries out wordlessly, tightening one hand in my hair and the other in the fabric on my shoulder. Her orgasm is swift when it comes moments later, loud and wet and like an earthquake.

But she keeps trembling, even after I know she's done, and she's gasping quietly, and her hand in my hair has let go. I pick up my head far enough to see over her belly, and my heart stops when I see that she's crying. "Pidge?"

She opens her eyes, and they're swollen and wet. "God, I love you," she whispers.

I'm equally as confused as I was, though less worried. "What?"

"Come here." She tugs at the shoulder of my shirt, and I climb up beside her on the couch.

"What's going on? Why are you crying?"

"I just love you so much," she gasps, and pulls me into a kiss; the flavor is an odd mingling of her musk on my tongue and the salt of tears on her lips.

“You’re just emotional?”

“Yeah.  Hormonal, right?  I'm sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”  I kiss her again, deep and fierce, and she responds with a little hum.  I’m suddenly so turned on it’s actually painful.  “Pidge, I want to fuck you now.”

“God, yes.”  She pushes on my shoulder, getting me back far enough that she can look at me.  “From behind?”

“Sure.”  I’ll take anything at this point, and even though this position isn’t quite exactly what I want today it will definitely be good.

I get up off the couch and take my pants off with shaking hands, while she puts a cushion on the floor and kneels on it, facing the couch, before she sticks her butt out at me and looks back over her shoulder.  “Ready?”

My mouth is dry.  “Take your sweater off.”

She sits back on her heels for a moment to pull it off, leaving her hair messy, then unhooks her bra.  My own shirt has way,  _ way  _ too many buttons, so after I’ve done about half I just take it over my head.

I kneel on the cushion behind her, and she sighs when I put my hands on her hips.  “I’m ready.”

“You sure?”

“Dude, I just had an orgasm a minute ago.  I’m definitely ready.”

“Okay.”

I press into her a little more aggressively than I mean to, and she’s hot and wet and so, so soft -- at least until she clenches me with a little grunt.  “You like that?” she breathes.

I can’t speak; I lean over her back and kiss her shoulder, scraping my teeth towards the center of her back while I thrust into her.  She moans, and the sound shudders through my entire body, finally concentrating at the base of my cock and I’m close immediately, I’ve never been so close so fast.  I’m getting sweaty, though Pidge’s skin is still dry -- there’s a bit of me that’s been noticing this when we make love, and noticing that it’s odd, but I guess it’s the winter dryness or pregnancy hormones or something.

I slide my hand from her hip up to her waist, and then around the side of her belly and down again, trying to find her clit with my fingers.  She’s moaning louder now, pressing back into me, and she gasps when I push my fingers between her labia.  The angle is a little weird, with her belly hanging in the way, but the weirdness is just enough to distract me from how good she feels around my cock so that I can last another couple of minutes.

“Oh fuck -- Hunk, fuck, oh my god …”  She doesn’t last; with my fingers on her she comes again, crying out with her face pressed into the couch cushion, trembling and gasping as I keep pounding into her.

It’s all so much.  I drape myself over her, caressing a breast with one hand and the other still on her pelvis, taking her as hard as I possibly can, my body feeling like it’s bursting at the seams with how much I want her, I want  _ her, I want her. _

She’s still gasping in ecstasy when I plummet over the edge of the abyss, nothing in my world except my wife’s strong body below me and the intense,  _ insane  _ pleasure that we’re sharing at this moment.

A short forever goes by while I clutch her, both of us breathing heavily, my sweat pooling on her back between us.  Eventually she makes a little sound in her chest and shifts, which I take as my signal to move.  I pull out of her, and I glance down to see our fluids dripping down the inside of her thighs.

It takes me a second, but then I grab my undershirt out of my pile of clothes and hand it to her.  “Here.  So it doesn’t get everywhere.”

“Thanks.”  She wipes herself off, then pushes herself up to her feet with a little grunt.  “Do you know where my underwear got to?”

“Uh.”  I cast my eyes around the room, then pause and try to remember.  “Under the coffee table maybe?”

She bends over, and does seem to find them just as I’ve extracted my own from my pants, which I’m not eager to put back on.  Instead I let myself watch as Pidge shimmies into her panties, then sits back down on the couch and reaches for her bra.

“I’m hungry now,” she says.  “What’s for dinner?”

“I was thinking tuna melts?”

She raises her eyebrows in surprise.  “Do we have fresh tomatoes?”

“No.”

“Hm.  It’s not a tuna melt without tomato.”

“Well, I’m not putting my pants back on to go get a tomato, and they’re not good this time of year anyway.  Will you eat it without?”

She sighs, rolls her eyes and bites back a smile.  “Yeah, I’ll eat it anyway.”


	6. Chapter 6

March

_ -Pidge- _

 

I’m frazzled and dripping when I get into class five minutes late.  Our water heater gave up the ghost last night, so Hunk and I both had to come and shower at the fitness center on campus this morning, and I took longer getting ready than I meant to.  So I’ve got wet hair, I’m sticky with sweat again from hurrying across campus (an increasingly difficult endeavor), and the cherry on the shit sundae is I think I put my bra on with the band twisted.

My students are sitting on the tables at the front of the room, and most of them hop down when I come in; technically it’s against regs but they all know I don’t give a shit about regs.  “Your hair is wet,” Hardison says, sliding into her chair.

“Ten points to Gryffindor,” I say, trying to come across as sarcastic as possible while I’m catching my breath.  I’m not sure if it exactly works, but it gets me a good round of laughter.  “Sorry I’m late.  We don’t have hot water at home.”

“You should get that fixed,” Zehfus says.

“Thanks, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Mr. K didn’t just fix it?” Cohen asks.

I unzip my bag and haul out my computer.  “Oh, believe me, he tried.  But apparently a part actually broke that he can’t get at without dismantling the whole thing, and by then it was almost midnight so I told him if he didn’t come to bed he’d be sleeping in the basement for a month.”

“You’ll have had Fernando by then,” Hardison quips, and I smile to myself.  They started calling the baby Fernando pretty much immediately after I announced my pregnancy, and sometimes when a couple of them see me on campus they’ll start belting Abba to get my attention.  I don’t know how they picked the name, but it’s certainly stuck.  I’ve caught myself almost saying it at home, even, to Hunk’s immense amusement.

“Not quite.  It’ll be a bit longer than that.”

“When are you due, anyway?”  I wasn’t looking but I’m sure that came from Cadet Ye, in the back row.  “All you said was right before the end of the semester.”

I plug the computer into the projector, and cross over to the light switches.  “Eight more weeks.”

“We should have a Fernando countdown!” Hardison says.  “Like, up on the whiteboard.”

“You know we’re not the only class that uses this room, right?”

“But we’re the best.”  She leans forward on her elbows.  “Come on, it’ll let the rest of the department know too.  It’ll be fun!”

I roll my eyes and grab a whiteboard marker, then stretch to reach the upper corner of the board and write  _ Fernando is due in 55 days. _

My students cheer. Fernando gives a vigorous wiggle inside me, and I lay my hand on the bump reflexively.

I can't believe there's still eight weeks left in the pregnancy. I'm big enough already that getting around is a chore, and I'm sure it's just a matter of days before I can't tie my shoes any more. My doctor says I'm still measuring a week ahead, even though I know for sure our timing wasn't wrong; I'm just going to have a very large baby. Maybe she'll come a little early, give me a bit of a break. (But -- knock on wood -- not pre-term.  I’ll put up with any discomfort for her to be healthy.) Not that her getting here will make me less tired, but at least I'll be able to breathe properly again. And it'll be nice to live without practice contractions, even if I have to go through the real deal to get there. I'm beginning to think I might want to consider using painkillers of some kind when I'm in labor, though up to now I'd thought I wanted to do it without.

I press my hand to my belly, wishing she’d give me a break this morning for just a minute.  “Okay, enough of that.  Let’s talk eigenvectors.”

  
  


April

_ -Hunk _ -

 

Pidge celebrates her thirty-sixth birthday when she's thirty-three weeks pregnant.

The day itself is on a Thursday, which is unfortunate for me if not for her.  Thursdays I’m busy on campus the entire day, and this week is even worse because we have a department meeting at four.  Pidge was supposed to have a department meeting too, but she begged off, saying she had a doctor appointment.  Which she does, but it’s six hours earlier.

She texts me throughout the day: a picture of the scan of the baby before lunch, a picture of her lunch (pad thai from our favorite spot), and finally a series of selfies while she goes baby registry “shopping” with her mom.  She tells me more than once she wishes I was there, and I wish I was too, though we did look at a bunch of stuff online together and it looks like she’s added most of that.

She also runs into a couple we met at birth class, so I’m treated to several hammy photos of them comparing bellies.  Our friend is 37 weeks now, Pidge says, technically full-term -- but Pidge’s bump is nearly as big even though she’s four weeks behind.  Or maybe it just looks that big, since Pidge is significantly shorter.

I don’t hear anything from Pidge after that, which is just as well because I really do have things I need to accomplish before the department meeting, and living vicariously through her day has made me really unproductive, which I can’t afford to be.

The meeting is actually not that bad, I get a chance to share some pictures of Pidge’s day with my colleagues, which is an opening to talk about the baby and how excited I am for her arrival.

And then it’s five o’clock, and I’m finally free and I can go home and actually spend a few hours with my wife on her birthday.  When I get there we heat up a frozen pizza, and spend the evening on the couch watching  _ Star Trek _ .  It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep in my arms.

 

 

Friday we have an early start, but Pidge is done by three; normally I’d have office hours later in the afternoon but I’ve cancelled them today because we have a birthday party to get to.

Pidge’s parents seem to be even more delighted than usual to see us, even though Colleen saw her yesterday.  They get her set on the couch with snacks, while I get going on the birthday cake; they had offered to buy one, but in the years I’ve known Pidge I’ve never  _ not  _ been the one to bake her cake, so I’m hardly going to break my streak.

Shiro, Matt, and Katsu show up just as I’m getting the cake layers out of the oven, which is perfect because I can use the excuse of the cake cooling to play with the dog for a while.  She’s pretty wound up today, and Pidge sides with me in a vigorous game of tug-of-war while Matt roots for the dog and Colleen tries not to say that she doesn’t think Pidge should be doing something like that.  But we let Katsu win, and she takes her slobbery rope trophy to Shiro, who tells her that she’s a very good dog and lets her kiss all over his face.

Pidge sits heavily on the couch, holding her belly with one hand and fanning her face with the other; she’s flushed but smiling, and she catches me looking.  “That was enough exertion for today.”

“Do you need some water?” Colleen says, and Pidge nods.

“Good idea.  And we should get to the game-playing part of the afternoon because I’m dying to crush someone at Munchkin.”

I lean down to kiss the top of her head.  “Okay if I miss the first game while frost the cake?”

She tips her head back to look up at me.  “Well, if it’s for cake.”

I brush a kiss to her lips.  “Do you want peanut butter frosting?”

“What the hell kind of question is that?”

“I like to be sure.”

“When have I ever not wanted peanut butter when it was an option?”

“I know, but I also know the little one here has been messing with you.”  I set my hand on her belly, and she touches my fingers with a gentle smile.  “I never want to guess and be wrong.”

“Gross!” Matt calls from across the room, where he’s sitting on the floor in front of the game cabinet with Katsu trying to sit in his lap.  “Get a room!”

“It’s my birthday!” Pidge whines.  “And the last one where I haven’t experienced birth from the other perspective, so I intend to enjoy it.”

“Argh!” Matt groans, burying his face in Katsu’s furry shoulder.

I kiss my wife one more time before I head back into the kitchen, where Colleen is already getting out the frosting ingredients for me.  Out in the living room Shiro asks Pidge if she’s okay, and she immediately starts in complaining about her Braxton-Hicks contractions.  She started getting them just a few weeks ago, and she’s understandably not a fan; I’ve heard about as much about them as I can stand, so she’s definitely glad to have a different audience with whom to exchange woes for sympathy.

Colleen is half listening to Pidge while she leans on the counter and watches me set up the mixer.  “I hope she has an easier time with your little girl than I had with her.”

I glance at her, trying not to feel nervous.  “That bad?”

“You know, not  _ awful _ , but … pretty difficult.  I only just avoided a c-section.”

“What about Matt?”

“He wasn’t too bad.  And he came a little bit early.  Katie was two full weeks overdue, I had to be induced.”

“Wow.”  I start the mixer, and it’s too loud to talk over.  Which suits me just fine, because I have a feeling Colleen will tell me the gory details if I let her, and I really don’t want to know that much about how Pidge came into the world.  Experiencing it with my own daughter will be plenty.

When I’ve finished frosting the cake I put the dome over it to keep the dog out, and then join the party out in the living room.  They’re close to wrapping up the game, so I cram in beside Pidge and hold her for the last few minutes until Shiro takes the victory.

“Right,” Sam says, while Matt’s picking up the cards.  “Time to order pizza?  What do we want on it?”

“Pineapple,” Pidge says immediately, and everyone but me groans.

Sam laughs.  “Okay, one with pineapple for you two.  How about for the rest of us?”

“We just had pineapple pizza yesterday,” I murmur to Pidge.

“So?”

“Good point.”

“See if they’ll make one with peas,” Matt says.

“Nobody makes pizza with peas,” Sam says.

“They do in Japan,” Shiro says.  “I had it once when I was a kid.  I’ve never seen it here, though.”

“You’re all very weird,” Colleen sighs.  “Let’s just do a supreme, they do a really good job with that one.  And I’ve got frozen peas if you’re desperate.”

“Now I actually want to try that,” Pidge groans.  “Thanks, Matt.  Like this baby wasn’t already made of weird foods.”

“I thought that was, like, the whole thing?” he says, packing cards back into the box.  “Being pregnant makes you eat weird things.”

“Well, maybe.  But sometimes I disgust myself, which isn’t ideal.”

I can’t help laughing, and remembering when she tried pickles with ice cream three months ago because it seemed like the thing to do.  She couldn’t even swallow one bite.  But she did enjoy fried pickles, and it turns out that I like them too, so they've become a regular undertaking in my kitchen.

Sam orders the pizzas, and we play another game until the food arrives.  I help Colleen throw together a salad -- and we do add peas, because salads here always have peas -- before we all sit down to eat.

This pizza is a lot better than the one we had last night, and Pidge and I both eat more than we should but it’s hard to regret it.  Once everyone is finished Colleen and Sam declare that it’s time for presents, so we sit Pidge on the couch again and force her to be the center of attention.

Matt and Shiro got her a new pair of fancy headphones, and Sam and Colleen somehow turned up a set of computer-themed office supplies that Pidge is immediately itching to take to campus to show off to our colleagues.  My gift doesn’t seem like much in comparison; even the box looks tiny, though I decorated it with the biggest, gaudiest ribbon bow I could find.  She pulls it off and sticks it to the top of her head while she opens the package.

“Oh my god, that’s -- that’s Kerberos.  And Pluto and Charon.”

“I commissioned it just for you.”

She’s staring at it, the box on her knees.  “It’s astonishing.”

Now, normally I wouldn’t have bought her jewelry, because it’s not normally her thing.  She wears her wedding ring every day, and she’s got a couple of necklaces she wears when she dresses up, so I knew if I got her anything like this it had to be special.  It had to mean something to her, it couldn’t just be pretty.

When I met Pidge, she was investigating the Kerberos crash.  It’s why the whole Voltron thing happened, it’s how she became special to me, it shaped both of our lives fundamentally.  So I had a necklace made: heavy resin cabochons of Pluto and Charon, with smaller beads going up the chain for all of the satellites, including Kerberos.  It’s modern and sleek, and just about the most Pidge thing I could think of.  It’s a bonus that Pluto has that heart-shaped feature, so I can feel like I got to give her something romantic too.

She lifts it out of the box, and after a moment of fiddling with the clasp gets it opened and fastens it around her neck.  She tugs gently at her dress to lower the neckline.  “How’s that?”

Matt and Shiro are too emotional to speak, and I’m beginning to get choked up too.  “It looks great on you.”

She beams at me.  “This is  _ amazing _ .”

Colleen makes a wet noise, and Sam wraps his arm around her shoulders with tears in his eyes.  “Good work, son,” he says to me.

And then Matt apparently can’t take it any more, he gets up and steps across the coffee table and drapes himself over Pidge, and she clutches his back, hanging on tight.  Shiro joins us a moment later, sitting on the arm of the couch next to me with a hand on Matt’s shoulder.

We don’t really talk about that part of our shared history any more.  The initial part, anyway.  The stuff that came after, being heroes, those memories come easily.  But the thing that started it all, the horrors that Matt and Shiro and Sam went through, everything that started on Kerberos -- they leave that part unsaid, most of the time.  It’s hard for them to remember it, so Pidge and I are careful only to bring it up when it’s just us.

I feel like this group hug is saying everything that we’ve spent ten years avoiding.  Well, maybe not everything.  But a lot of it has come out all of a sudden, and even Sam is on Pidge’s other side now, with his arms around his children.

After a minute Pidge’s voice comes from under the pile.  “Okay, up now.”

Sam and Shiro back off, and Matt shifts off to her side.  Pidge’s face is streaked with tears, but she still looks happy even as she takes her glasses off and wipes at her eyes.  The ribbon is now only barely stuck onto the hair on the side of her head.  “Well, Hunk, you definitely set the bar for every other gift ever.”

I set my hand on her leg.  “Thanks. I try.”

She starts to lean on my shoulder, but crunches the bow and sits up, startled for a second before she realizes what it is and laughs, replacing it on top of her head.  “Okay, that’s plenty from the department of unexpected feels.  Let’s have another game.”

We play the game on the coffee table, and I win this one, if only barely -- Pidge was right on my tail the whole way.  Pidge then declares it time for cake, so I haul her to her feet and we do the usual birthday cake song-and-dance.

Once we’re all thoroughly stuffed with chocolate and peanut butter, the long day and even longer week finally catches up with me, and Pidge is fading fast too.  We say our goodbyes, take our leave and head home; it seems like Pidge dozes off in the car but she’s awake when I pull into our garage ten minutes later, so maybe not.

I take her necklace off for her and replace it in its box, then set the box on the tray on top of the dresser.  We get undressed, get ready for bed, and when we slide between the sheets she rolls over and kisses me and kisses me and kisses me, and my entire being is full with her.


	7. Chapter 7

_-Hunk-_

 

"But what if it's not okay?"

I wake up with a start; Pidge is cocooned in the blankets like she always is, and in the darkness I can just barely see that her eyes are closed. I think she's asleep. "What?"

"It's not okay." Her voice is breathy, frightened. "It's been too long."

"What are you talking about?" I'm trying to keep my voice low, to not wake her up if she really is just talking in her sleep.

"She hasn't told us her name yet."

"You mean the baby?"

"I'm worried that she hasn't told us her name yet."

"There's still time."

"It's been too long."

"No, it's okay." I roll towards her, reach for her, and the first part I touch is her belly.

She jumps at my touch, makes a startled sound.

"It's okay," I say again, and she takes a deep breath

"Hunk?"

"It's just me. You were dreaming."

"Oh." I slide my hand around her waist, and she sighs. "It was ... something about the baby."

"Yeah, you said she hasn't told us her name yet."

"She hasn't." Pidge shifts her weight, moves closer to me; she seems agitated. "Sorry, it's hazy, but ... I remember that much. I feel like I'm waiting for her to tell me."

"Go back to sleep," I say, and I brush a kiss to the tip of her nose. "We can't do anything in the middle of the night. We can talk about it in the morning if you want."

She seems to slip instantly back into that dream-space, and I'm suddenly not sure that she was ever actually awake. "It's going to be dawn."

"I know, it's late. Go back to sleep."

She heaves a deep sigh and snuggles down into her pillow -- out like a light.

It's not so easy for me. I'm unsettled. Maybe this was just a weird dream she's having, but maybe ... I don't know. I'm not properly awake either. I shouldn't worry about this right now, in the morning it'll be nothing.

What she said is nagging at _something_ in the back of my mind, like it sounded familiar somehow. It's very tempting to let myself poke at it, but even before I start I know this is an exercise in frustration. So I do my best to set it aside.

I look at my wife. She's still now, she looks peaceful, sleeping deeply with her mouth hanging slightly open.

I pull her close and shut my eyes.

 


	8. Chapter 8

_ Early May _

_ -Pidge- _

 

Lance is the one who answers Shiro and Matt's front door, and he practically pulls me across the threshold with the force of his hug. "Pidge!"

"Hey, man."

He re-steadies me on my feet and grabs Hunk next, and then Matt appears in the entry to the kitchen. "Damn, Pidge, you look like you're about to pop."

"Don't even say that," I groan. "I'm thirty-eight weeks and four days, so I could actually go into labor at any moment."

Hunk helps me through to the living room, and I take the best chair and put my feet up while he pulls off my shoes for me because I definitely can't reach them.

"Hey, I thought I heard you guys!" We look up; Shiro is on the second floor balcony, but quickly turns and traipses down the stairs. "I'm really glad you could make it, I know it's hard getting around these days."

"It's all right," I say, though I fear my nonchalance is undermined by the fact that I'm a sweaty beached whale on his favorite armchair.

"It'll be even harder after the baby comes," Hunk says. "We'll take this while we can."

"You know she'll always be welcome here," Matt says, perching on the couch to my left. "I really mean that, literally any time you want to bring her here we'll be glad to have her. Babysitting or just hanging out."

Katsu comes around from behind the chair and sets her muzzle on my thigh, and I pat the back of her head, which is the only part I can really see. "Hey girl."

She makes a very gentle  _ boof _ , and Shiro laughs. "Good dog."

"She'll be okay with the baby?" Hunk asks with anxiety in his voice, looking to Shiro.

"She'll be perfect," he reassures us. "She's finished advanced obedience training since the last time you were here and spent time around small children as part of that, and she was flawless."

Keith comes in from outside then, and delight comes over his face. "Oh, you made it!"

I roll my eyes. "Why does everybody sound surprised when they say that?"

Keith grins as he comes over to us. "Because I can't imagine doing what you're doing. You look super uncomfortable."

"Do not  _ even  _ get me started.”

"Really don't," Hunk chimes in. "She can complain at you all day and not repeat anything."

"I bet it helps to let it out, though," Keith says, perching on the arm of my chair and running his fingers through the dog's thick fur. "What's number one right now?"

I have to think for a second to order them. "My feet are swollen something awful. All my shoes hurt, when I can get them on at all, and I can only stand for a few minutes at a go. Close number two is heartburn, even though the baby dropped last week. It happens every time I eat. Number three is that I haven't had a full night's sleep in about a month."

"Damn."

"Yeah."

"Is it just that you can't find a comfortable position?"

"Partially, and also she gets more active at night. Less so recently, I think because she just doesn't have any room in there any more. But the hiccups are killer."

"You get hiccups?"

"No, the baby does." I wince a little as a practice contraction tenses what feels like most of my body. "Also I've been having Braxton-Hicks contractions on and off since thirty-two weeks, so basically forever. They're not bad really, they don't hurt much, but they keep me up when I have them at night."

"That sucks."

"No shit."

"So, I know we just got comfortable here," Shiro says from the kitchen, where he's taking out glasses, "but it's absolutely gorgeous outside. Should we go out on the deck? Watch the sun set?"

I tip my head towards him. "Is it breezy and can I put my feet up?"

"You know very well you can put your feet up," Matt says, "we got that one chair specifically because you fell in love with it."

"There's a light breeze," Keith says. "Not windy, but nice."

"Okay." I drop my feet to the floor and hold up my arms at Hunk, and he lifts me upright before he plants a kiss on my cheek.

"You're lucky I think this is really cute," he murmurs.

"Ugh, stop." I kiss him back. "This is all your fault anyway."

Lance laughs and slides the door open. "Man, she's saying that already, imagine how bad it's going to be when she's in labor."

“She even took off her wedding ring,” Hunk says, steadying me by my elbow.  “I mean, she said it’s because her hands are swollen, but you never know.”

“I’ve got it on a chain,” I say to Lance.  “I’m just not wearing it today because I’m wearing the other jewelry he gave me.  I have to take whatever scraps of feeling pretty I can get these days.”

“I noticed that,” Lance says, peering at my necklace as he opens the screen door.  “The necklace, I mean.  That’s the one he gave you for your birthday?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s pretty awesome.”

“Thanks,” Hunk says, and I hope I’m flushed enough anyway that they can’t see me blushing even more when he murmurs in my ear, “ _ you’re absolutely gorgeous today, _ ” in a voice that’s positively dripping with suggestion.

I shuffle barefoot out to the porch with Hunk’s assistance, and get down into the best lounge chair with what I'm afraid is not a lot of dignity, though obviously nobody here expects that from me. Or ever has, really, which is a great thing to realize when I've spent the last month feeling vaguely shitty about how gigantic I'm getting. These guys are all so excited about the baby, they’ve been nothing but supportive about the huge, weird changes my body is going though.

Keith appears once I get settled and holds something out to me. "Here, I don't want to forget to give you this. Not for right now, obviously, but we figured this was something you could enjoy later, since we don't know the next time we'll be able to get together."

It looks like a chocolate bar, and I take it from his outstretched hand. "Thank you?"

"It's edible," he says, and then hesitates. "I mean, a marijuana edible. There's THC in it."

Sure enough, there's a big drawing of a pot leaf on the wrapper. "They let you bring that into Utah?"

"What they don't know can't hurt 'em," Lance says. "This is from a shop in the Castro, just down the street from our place. The chocolate is really good, and it's got a lowish THC content so you can ease into it."

I turn the bar over to look at the label. "You say that like I've never done pot before."

"What?!" Matt says, joining us on the porch with a tray of glasses and a fake astonished expression. "My little Pidge has smoked pot?"

"I'm a bad influence," Hunk says. "You know everybody does it out on the islands."

Shiro laughs. "Don't listen to Matt, he makes me drive up across the border every time we run out."

"It helps with my nerve thing," Matt says defensively.

"I'm sure it does," I say, raising my eyebrows.

"I won't tell Dad if you won't."

"Deal." I hold the chocolate bar out to Hunk. "Put that somewhere safe. We can share it at some point when the baby doesn't get a piece of everything I put in my body."

"I'll put it where the dog won't get into it for now."

"That would be an awful vet visit to explain," Shiro laughs. "Doctor Miller is a great vet but he's got a stick up his ass."

"Would it be safe for the baby?" Matt asks. "I mean like, would it come out in breastmilk?"

I look at Hunk, who glances up from putting the bar into his bag and shrugs. "It hasn't really been studied rigorously, that I know of."

"I wouldn't use it when there's any kind of chance I could pass it to her anyway," I say. "It may not be harmful but I wouldn't do it unless I was sure, and I'm not. She's not allowed weed until she's like thirty."

"We'll put this safely away," Hunk says. "Save it for a date night when someone else is looking after her. After she's weaned."

"Anyway, speaking of gifts," Lance says, stepping over and handing me a package wrapped in gold tissue paper. "Since we missed your baby shower, have to give you this now."

“Oh, is this the blanket you said you wanted to make?”

“Yeah.  I finished it in time after all!”

I tear the paper open, and Lance takes it from me while I unfold the blanket and lay it over my belly.  It’s thick and squishy, with wide zig-zag stripes of gold and green, and I love it immediately.  “Oh my god, you made this?”

“Hey, careful--”  Hunk grabs a couple of things that fell out of the ripples of fabric and onto the deck.  “Don’t drop these.”

“I had extra yarn,” Lance says, rubbing the back of his neck as everyone else gathers close to see.  “I might have gone a little crazy.”

Hunk holds up a baby-sized striped hat in the same colors, and a little stuffed lion with a loopy green mane.  My heart breaks in an instant.  “Oh my  _ god. _ ”

“You like him?”

Tears are already streaming down my face, and beside me Hunk is quietly sobbing as he hands me the lion.  “He’s perfect,” I whisper.

“I had a friend make him,” Lance says.  “I don’t know how to crochet.”

“This is the most precious thing I’ve ever seen,” Hunk gasps.

I reach both arms up towards Lance.  “Come here.”

Lance bends down, and Hunk and I envelop him in a hug that’s probably uncomfortably tight but I don’t give a fuck.  I can’t believe how sweet this was, how much  _ effort  _ and patience he put into making these lovely things for our baby.  “She’s so lucky to have you for an uncle,” I say, and Lance’s arms tighten around me.

“I’m lucky to have her,” he says softly.

Hunk and I finally let him go, and when he stands up Keith slides an arm around his waist.  “I wish we didn’t live so far away,” Keith says.  “We’re jealous that Matt and Shiro get to be hands-on uncles.”

“You’ll have to come visit more often,” Hunk says, wiping the tears off his cheeks.

Lance rubs his shoulder.  “We will, I promise.”

I reach for Hunk, and he takes my hand, smiling like his heart is overflowing.  “We can do this, Pidge.”

I nod, and I’m about to start crying again.  As we get closer to my due date we’ve realized we’re terrified of the prospect of having a baby, of how we’re going to handle being parents, but today it’s hit me that as always -- and how could we have doubted it? -- the team has our back.  “We can.”


	9. Chapter 9

_ Late May _

_ -Pidge- _

 

It's fully ten minutes after nine by the time I finally waddle into the classroom, and the latest I've been all semester. "Hey, everyone. Sorry I'm late."

"Wasn't sure you'd make it at all," Cohen says with a grin.

"You'd all love that, wouldn't you?" I drop my bag on the desk, then head to the whiteboard to update the Fernando countdown to T-plus six -- nearly an entire week past due, though it really,  _ really _ feels like more.  I can barely remember what it’s like to not be enormously pregnant.  "I've got your last p-sets graded, you can all come get them while I set up." I put the stack of papers on the first row table, then go to the desk and sit down heavily, though the change in position unfortunately doesn't do anything to help my lower back pain. I have to take a moment to collect myself before I can log in to pull up my lecture notes.

My students don't take long to collect their papers, and they meander back to their seats. Cadet Zehfus is in the seat closest to me today, and he gives me a concerned look. "Are you okay? You look kind of rough."

I sigh -- the last several weeks of the pregnancy have been difficult, and this extra one even more so. I feel like I haven't been comfortable for more than a fleeting moment since I hit full term four weeks ago. "I'm okay," I say, and roll the chair to the side of the desk so I can see everyone. "Mainly just … very tired. This is definitely the last time you'll see me, though. I started having real contractions this morning, that's why I was late."

Everyone looks absolutely shocked. Unsurprisingly, Cohen is the one who finds her voice first. "Um, why are you here at all if you're in labor?  Shouldn't you be at the hospital or something?"

I almost laugh.  "That's not how labor works.  It's probably going to be hours and hours before anything really starts happening, and I figure I want to be here as long as I can deal with the pain. They're barely regular and like fifteen minutes apart still, Fernando isn't going anywhere for a while yet. Might not even get here today." I turn on the screen and point at the light switches by the door; Cadet Hardison is nearest and jumps up to turn off half of them just like I always do. "Let's get started. What I've seen of everyone's projects looks very good so far, so this is kind of like some pro tips and a little bonus material, just to wrap things up. Class won't meet for the rest of the week, since we made it so far it wasn't worth it to find a substitute.  You can all use the time to work on your projects, make sure they're  _ really  _ good."

Cohen grins at me. "Better than holding your baby, right?"

I laugh -- they really grabbed onto that one, and it's become a running joke. I wrap my arms around my belly. "Which means they have to be  _ spectacular  _ because the minute this little one gets here, she's going to become my entire life."

 

  
  
Hunk arrives a few minutes before the end of the class period, and I'm honestly relieved to see him. I've had ten contractions in the two hours since I got here, which means they're closer together than they were, and I'm sure they're getting stronger as well; it's definitely real labor this time. I haven't been timing them, though I'm not sure exactly why; maybe I don't want to acknowledge that this is the end of my pregnancy. As much as it's been difficult recently, I've loved carrying our baby, and I'm a little bit afraid of labor, not to mention afraid of how things will change when she finally gets here.

My students all know Hunk -- he started stopping in more and more frequently as the semester wore on -- and he says hello to everyone before he comes over to me. Cadet Jones decides she got the answer she came to me for, and gives him a shy smile before she scurries back to her friends in the third row.

I can tell Hunk wants to touch me, to reassure himself that I'm okay, but I don't like being physically affectionate at work so he restrains himself. Today's different, though -- I reach out to him, and he takes my hand in his instantly, holds it tightly. "How are you?"

"Been better," I say softly; my students are pretending not to listen. I gesture at my tally marks in the corner of the whiteboard, below the countdown. "I counted my contractions and they're pretty regular. It's definitely not false labor."

He smiles. "Baby will be here soon."

"Can't come soon enough." I shift in my chair, trying to relieve the pressure on my hips. It doesn't work.

He gives my hand a squeeze, and then lets go reluctantly. "I'll let your cadets have you for another few minutes."

As soon as he steps away, Cadet Cohen comes over. "I just had one little question..."

I keep half an eye on Hunk while I reassure Cohen that there isn't some sneaky catastrophic bug in her code that hasn't become apparent yet through all of her testing. Hunk chats with my students, occasionally looks back at me, smiles like he's struggling to hold it inside.

Another contraction starts just as the cadets are leaving, and this one hurts more than any that came before, it's strong enough at the outset to momentarily take my breath away. The few who are still here hesitate when they notice, but I wave them away with a hurried farewell, and Hunk drops to his knee in front of me, his big hands just resting on my legs. "Pidge?"

"Yeah."

"Do your breathing, peanut."

I suck in a lungful of air and blow it out slowly, then repeat, and it does help. I take a few more careful breaths until the pain starts to ease off -- the technique felt very silly, practicing in birth class, but it does work to manage the discomfort, and it feels less silly somehow now that I am actually in labor. It's dawning on me that I'll need all the techniques in my repertoire to get through this. And probably pharmaceuticals, so I’m glad I already discussed that with my midwife.

Hunk's eyes are wide when I look back up at him. "Have they all been like that?"

I shake my head. "No, they're getting stronger."

"How far apart are they?"

"Not sure. I feel like it's less than ten minutes now."

"Let's get you home, if they’re this bad.  I’m sure they’ll understand if you cancel your afternoon to start your leave."

"Oh thank god, I can barely stand being here any more."

"Tired already?"

"Yes." It comes out kind of like a moan, and I'm glad there wasn't anyone else here to hear it. "I’ve been up since four, I need a damn nap.  Take me home, Hunk."

"Okay. Come on, stand up."

Standing is a tall order, but I do manage, and Hunk has brought the car closer than is really allowed, so I don't have to walk far. I have another contraction on the way home, and this time I remember to get out my app to time it. My mom is at our house to meet us when we arrive, opening the front door for me and taking my elbow while I step up over the threshold since I can't see my feet at all.

"Hey, honey, doing all right?"

I nod half-heartedly. "I'm surviving. Contractions are about ten minutes apart, last one was thirty seconds."

"You just hang in there, it may be a while yet. First babies tend to be slow."

She helps me get down into the couch, and it's the most comfortable I've been all day. I put my feet up and Hunk pulls my shoes off. "How long was it for you?" I ask Mom.

"Matt took about thirty hours. You showed up in eight, but I had a hell of a time."

I sigh and try to relax. Better settle in for a long ride.


	10. Chapter 10

_ -Hunk- _

At seven in the evening Pidge's contractions are five minutes apart, and her water breaks while she's trying to decide if she wants to eat dinner. So I throw together a few peanut butter sandwiches, Colleen calls the midwife, and eight minutes and two strong contractions later we leave for the birth center, where Matt is going to meet us and be tonight’s official photographer.  Sam and Shiro thought about tagging along too, but Pidge doesn’t want that many people in the room where it happens so they’re stuck elsewhere until it’s all done.

Pidge labors through the night, making slow progress but determined to do it herself, despite the difficulty. I do what little I can to support her, being strong, being here; I'm tired and she must be exhausted. She leans on me, hangs off my neck, sways into me with the rushes and I take what she gives me, I hold her and rock her and murmur to her while she moans.

This whole thing is completely terrifying. On the one hand,  _ holy shit  _ our baby is almost here and for as much as we’ve been preparing for years, I am completely not ready. But even more than that, the way that this experience is making Pidge behave is profoundly unsettling: she's not fully herself. I'm seeing things about her that I’ve never seen before, all I can do is watch the way she withdraws into herself with the pain, becomes almost ... animal. She's making sounds I haven't heard from a person who wasn't dying and every time it happens it's all I can do, every last bit of my self-control, to not completely lose it. She's counting on me to be strong tonight, she  _ needs  _ me, no matter what's happening I have to be the guy who doesn’t lose his head.

I’m immensely glad that Colleen is here too, someone I trust who has done this before and knows what Pidge is going through.  She doesn’t have to say anything, but every time I look at her in desperation she meets my gaze, gives me a slow nod and a gentle smile that says  _ this will be all right. _

In between contractions, Pidge is herself again and complains that the sound system here is inadequate to the task of playing Led Zeppelin at the correct volume. We all agree, but nobody mentions that the other new parents here probably don't want to hear "Kashmir" and "Black Dog" anything like as much as Pidge does. It's a little weird, I'd have thought she would want something more calming -- but I guess it helps her feel powerful, and I can only imagine how much power she's going to need before she's done.

Around two AM the exhaustion really starts to set in, she’s staying disconcertingly withdrawn even when she’s not having a contraction.  Plus she's getting shivery and can’t quite seem to take a full breath, so she gets a dose of a narcotic and tranquilizer and wraps up in a blanket. She dozes off on the bed while I sing quietly along with "Stairway to Heaven," and she spends two hours actually sleeping between contractions.

When she's up again she seems much more herself and switches the music to AC/DC, and I actually get a laugh out of her for my dramatic rendition of "You Shook Me All Night Long." It comes from the heart; I'm feeling the whole long night now, I'm absolutely wiped out but we aren't done yet.  The night isn’t over.

By the time Pidge is ready to push, the sky in the east is starting to show the beginning blush of twilight. It takes a some time, and a lot of help from me, but she finds a position she likes, crouching on a stool. I sit behind her and prop her up, let her squeeze my hands with all her strength, kiss her cheek while she takes the tiny rests she gets, leaning back against my chest. I try to help her ignore the people between her legs, though the midwife holds up a mirror now and again so we can actually see the action.

Pidge brings our daughter into the world just as the sun has risen, its golden light spilling into the room, flooding us with warmth.

Our little girl has medium brown skin; lighter than mine, but darker than Pidge's, and she's all kinds of wrinkled and squishy and  _ perfect _ . There's thick black hair on her head, and she's got all of her limbs and a powerful set of lungs that she puts to good use until she gets rubbed down thoroughly and wrapped up in her mother's arms.

Pidge is crying, absolutely sobbing, some mix of exhaustion and pain and relief and joy and I can't let go of her, I won't; I have the two dearest things to me in my arms right at this moment and nothing will ever be better than this. I'm crying too, obviously; it feels so natural. It's the only thing we can do right now. I can't even compose myself enough to cut the cord, so Colleen does it instead while Matt flits around us with his camera and I'm glad someone is capturing all of this because I am really very fucked up.

After several minutes Pidge calms down a bit, and once the placenta is out the midwife cleans her up, and then I take my daughter ( _ my daughter oh my god I'm holding her _ ) while Pidge gets helped up onto the bed. Matt has apparently been thinking, and produces the little hat that Lance made; I put it on her tiny head and it fits perfectly.  The baby has opened her eyes now and is watching both of us as I pull up a chair beside her mother. "I know her name," Pidge whispers, as I set the baby in her arms again.

"Do you?" We’ve discussed names, and we have a short list, but we haven't made a decision yet.

"It's Dawn."

Recollection hits me all at once -- that night a month ago, when she was talking in her sleep, and it pinged something deep in my brain. Now I know why. I see it suddenly, I realize the entire depth of meaning, how every moment of our lives has led to this, and it's perfect, I  _ love  _ it.

"She told you?"

"I think she told me a while ago, but I wasn't listening. I'm listening now."

It's woo, it's absolutely crap and I'm surprised she's saying this at all, but somehow I believe her; somehow she believes herself.  _ Dawn _ wasn't on our list, but it couldn't be better. "You're right. Her name is Dawn." I feel like I'm going to start crying again, and I don't fight it. I put my arm around Pidge's shoulders and hold her as best I can while the midwife examines whatever damage happened to Pidge’s body while she brought our child to us.

Pidge looks up at me, and I try to ignore the bit in the back of my mind that says she looks awfully pale. "You can pick her middle name."

I can't help laughing, and I feel sort of manic. "She's getting my last name, I don't have to pick her middle name."

Pidge raises her eyebrows, and tips her head back onto my arm. "She's getting a hyphenate, and Holt is coming first, remember? You get to pick her middle name."

I try to focus and think of my own short list -- one Hawaiian name nearly made the cut. I'd eventually discarded it because of the 'okina, which I know from experience is hard for most English-speakers to pronounce, my wife included. But I always wished I could have kept it, and as a middle name, I think it can work. "Makali'i."

"It's beautiful."

"Can you pronounce it?" I say it again, a little slower, and Pidge mimics me as best she can -- it's pretty close, especially considering that she's slurring a little. God, I love her so much. "Good job."

"Thanks. I'll keep practicing. What does it mean?"

"It's the name for the Pleiades."

"That's way too perfect."

"Yeah, I know. Just like her."

She grins, and she looks delirious. "Just like her."

  
  
  


_ -Pidge- _

 

The picture that Matt took right after Dawn was born is maybe a little cuter than I really want to show to my students, but I'm feeling more sentimental right now than I ever have in my life -- and I'm a little drugged out to boot -- so it'll work. At least Mom reminded me to put a drape on so my tits weren’t hanging out. And the photo really is lovely, I'm holding Dawn like I know what I'm doing, and Hunk is perched up on the edge of the bed next to me with his arm around my shoulders and he looks happier than I've ever seen him. Like,  _ ever. _ It's kind of amazing. If I remember correctly he'd only finally stopped crying right before the picture happened.

Though I don't really trust my memory that well, since I was hypotensive at the time and in a huge amount of pain. I mean, I'm still bleeding heavily and in pain right now, but it's a lot better. Comparatively. It’s been almost six hours now, and I've slept without being interrupted every couple of minutes by my uterus trying to pinch me in half, which was incredible. Apparently Hunk held Dawn the entire time I was sleeping, didn’t put her down for even a second. With her in his arms, he looks like ... he looks like this is how he was always meant to be.  _ At last, my arm is complete  _ sort of thing. But without the ... murder. And cannibalism.

I am  _ definitely _ loopy, to be thinking about musical theatre.

Hunk and I draft and send a mass email to everyone who matters and isn't here, and when Hunk goes to call his mom (even though it's still really damn early in Hawaii) I post the photo to the announcements section on my course's website with a short caption:

_ Dawn Makali'i Holt-Kealoha, 4.3 kg, born May 30th at 6am Mountain Daylight Time. Dr. Holt and baby are in good health. Reminder that final projects are due next Friday at 5pm via Moodle upload and there will be no extensions. _

_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Image on Tumblr](https://ladymac111-draws.tumblr.com/post/164678612107/dawn-makalii-holt-kealoha-43-kg-born-may-30th)


	11. Chapter 11

_June_

_-Hunk-_

 

"Fuck." Pidge's voice is angry and choked, and I feel a stab of fear even before I turn and see the anguished look on her face as she leans on the kitchen counter, the laptop screen glowing on her glasses.

"What is it?" Without even thinking I bring both hands up to check that my daughter is still safe -- and of course she is, she's sleeping soundly, wrapped up firmly in her sling against my chest while I make spaghetti sauce.

"Dawn's genetic test results." Pidge turns the screen so I can see and my heart is in my throat as I tighten my arms around our baby. "She has my HEXA mutation. She's a Tay-Sachs carrier."

The anxiety drains from me like a wave going out, leaving me feeling shaky and heavy. I might be clutching Dawn a little too tightly, but she just shifts slightly in her sleep. I can't even make my eyes focus on the screen, but there's only one thing highlighted, so that must be the only notable result. "God, the way you reacted I thought she was sick."

"No, healthy as a horse." Her expression turns sad. "Just ... passing on that shitty part of the legacy to yet another generation."

"It's not only Jewish people who have that particular mutation," I point out, but I feel stupid as soon as I've said it, and Pidge turns a withering look on me.

"She still has it."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry, unhelpful."

She looks back at the screen, and doesn't say anything. After a minute I clear my throat awkwardly. "But, you know, if we had another, the probability is they wouldn't carry it."

"Hah.  Yeah, well." She smiles a little, sadly, and glances at me before she looks back at the computer. "You know there won't be another. Not after how she tore me apart. I can't do that again."

"I know." Even as the pregnancy got more and more difficult for her, I still held out hope that we might have another baby someday. But then the complications following Dawn's birth, and Pidge's slow recovery, the fact that she's _still_ anemic weeks later ... her midwife said that same day it probably wasn't a good idea to have another pregnancy. Then when she got properly checked and we found out the extent of the damage, the scarring, we agreed that Dawn would be an only child and Pidge had the procedure to get the rest of the way sterilized. She can never get pregnant again.

I've been having a hard time coming to terms with it, though, which is completely selfish but I can't help it. I always wanted a whole brood of children, and despite how tiring these first several weeks having Dawn have been, it's become clear how much I absolutely love being a father. For a long time I thought it would happen, us having a bunch of kids, though we never actually got farther than "first one and then we'll see." Pidge has never said, in so many words, but I think secretly one is all she really wanted, and now it's what she's getting.

When I get feeling butthurt about it, I make myself think of Dawn -- my perfect daughter, the light of my life. As much as I would love to have the way I feel about her multiplied by half a dozen more, I don't need it. I have her, and I have Pidge, and if I need to love more babies we can get dogs or something. Or maybe some of the others will have babies and I can be an uncle, that would be pretty good too. Not the same, but ... yeah.  Not that I expect Keith and Lance or Shiro and Matt to ever become dads….

Dawn grumbles a little, and I bounce her gently.

Every day I'm astonished by how much I love her.

  
  
_July_

_-Pidge-_

 

I finally get home from running my errands at two in the afternoon, much later than I'd have liked. But Hunk meets me in the foyer while I'm taking off my shoes, and he has Dawn cradled in his arms. "Hello, Momma."

"Hi, Daddy." I kiss him -- his face is prickly these days, fully bearded now since he hasn't shaved in the seven weeks since Dawn arrived -- and then turn my attention to the baby, who has started burbling at me. "Hello, The Poopsmith," I coo.

Hunk grimaces, but lets me take her. "Don't call her that."

"Why not?" She grabs at the front of my shirt with her tiny fist, in a way that I'm learning means that she's hungry.

"It's just...." He sighs and stuffs his hand into his pocket. "I don't know, I feel like maybe we're not supposed to still think Homestar Runner is funny?"

I roll my eyes. "Why not? It's a classic. And anyway, we're adults, we can do what we want." I brush him with my shoulder while I walk past him into the living room, and he follows close behind me. "If it helps I'll try not to do it around people who don't already know we're intensely weird?"

"All right."

He perches on the arm of the couch and gives me a small smile while I sit down in my favorite chair and arrange my clothing so I can feed Dawn. "And besides, we're her parents, I think we're supposed to have embarrassing nicknames for her. It's like our sacred duty."

He chuckles. "That's true. I was kind of thinking more of weird food nicknames, though. Call her, like, apple fritter."

I laugh. "That's just silly."

"I know, that’s why it’s great."

"Anyway. How was she today?"

"Perfect, of course. She's always perfect for me." He smiles at me, and I think, not for the first time, that I really like this beard on him. "She slept a lot, and she seemed confused by the bottle at first when I fed her, but she took it after a little convincing."

Dawn has latched onto my breast and is eating hungrily. It's uncomfortable, but so is the fullness of going so many hours without her, and I know this will help. And it's a lot better than pumping. "She's not used to you being the one with the food, huh?"

"Guess not. I bet it tastes better fresh, too."

"Probably. Still, I'm glad she took it. Better to get her used to it now, there will be more days like this. I can't stay home forever."

"I wish you could," he murmurs. "I've loved this, being with you and her all the time."

"Me too." I grin at him, and he smiles back, bright and beautiful.

He leans down and kisses me. "I love you."

"I love you too. So much."

He kisses me again, then sits back with a little sigh, watching Dawn nurse.

"I'm looking forward to our trip, though," I say.

"Me too. And you talked with Shay today, right? Finalized all the plans?"

"Yup. Ow." I flinch as Dawn is a little too rough with my nipple; she makes a grouchy face when I take it away and bring her up to my shoulder. "Yeah, everything is set. T-minus two weeks until we take Dawn off the planet where she was born so she can go meet the alien who's been holding a candle for her dad for twenty years."

Hunk chuckles. "I can't believe it's so soon.  Two weeks is nothing."

"I know, right? Came up out of nowhere.  I’m so glad this worked out though, the last time we saw Shay was way before we started trying to conceive and, well … you know as well as I do how beyond excited she’s been to meet this kid." Dawn lets out a good burp, so I take her to my other breast so she can keep eating. "I need to order new glasses, don't let me forget. I'm not sure if they'll get here before we go off-world, though."

"You need new glasses?"

"Yeah, apparently being pregnant really fucked up my eyes? Both are a half-diopter worse, and I have astigmatism now."

"I guess that's why you've been complaining about the TV."

"Yeah. It'll be nice to be able to read things again."

He leans down and kisses me again, first my cheek, then my lips.  I want to press up into him, to deepen the kiss, but it’s deeply awkward with the baby at my breast.  Instead I turn my head, duck my chin and fit myself against his chest.

“Are you nervous about the trip?” Hunk murmurs, rubbing my shoulder.

I nod.  “Of course I am.”

He hesitates.  “If it’s still about me and Shay, I--”

“No,” I interrupt, shaking my head.  “It’s not about that, Hunk.  It hasn’t been about that in forever.”

“Okay.  Because you know I’ve never loved her like this.”

“I know.  She knows, we all know.”  I try to glance up at him through my hair.  “Why do you always bring that up when we go to see her?”

He shifts his weight like he’s going to pull away from me, but he doesn’t quite do it.  “Because … I don’t know.  Because I feel like I have to.  Because I _do_ love her, just not in the way I love you.”

“I know you love her,” I say softly, and since I can’t see him from this angle I look down at our baby.  “I don’t completely … I don’t really _get_ exactly what you guys have.”

“That’s why I feel like I need to tell you this every time,” Hunk says.  “I can’t really explain it.  I care a lot about her, but it’s nothing like this.  She’s nothing like you and I don’t want to do this with her, I don’t want to kiss her or make a home or have a family with her.”  I can feel him shrug.  “She’s … she’s a really special rock.”

A laugh bursts out of me, inexplicably, and Dawn scowls at being jostled.  “She _is_ a really special rock.”

“Like ….”  He sighs.  “I wish she was a bigger part of our lives, you know?  I’d like to see her a lot more than every five years.  I'd like to talk to her sometimes, instead of just when we can score twenty minutes on the teludav relay.”

“Me too.  And I want you to really take that to heart, okay?  I mean it.  I feel like you think I go along with this because of how you feel about her, but she’s important to me too.  I have my own friendship with her.”

“I know you do.”

“Good.”  I press my head into his chest, and he rubs my shoulder.  “So, like, you don’t have to bring up her crush on you.  She talks to me about it sometimes and I feel bad for her, you know?  She’s been obsessed with you forever and I know _exactly_ how that feels, but she doesn’t get to have what I do, and she’s remarkably chill about it.”

He shifts, and kisses the top of my head.  “She doesn’t talk to me about it.”

“Well, why would she?”

“Fair.”

“She’s happy being your friend,” I say.  “She’s always very clear about that, and I believe her.”

“I’m happy being her friend too.”

“I know, babe.”  I look down at Dawn, who has stopped eating and is looking very sleepy.  I rouse myself enough to lift her for one more burping.  “I think this one’s about ready for a nap.”

“Yeah, she was awake all morning so she could use some sleep by now.”

She burps, and spits up a little on the cloth.  Hunk wipes her face with the corner of it, and then I let him take her while I put my boobs back into my clothing.

“How are you doing?” Hunk says softly.

I lean forward and rub my eyes; the world is a lot blurrier these days, and it's not just because my prescription has changed.  “Tired.  Had a lot of morning.”

“Do you want to have a lie-down too?”

“Yeah.  Will you join me?”

He gives me a sly smile, and with his facial hair he looks positively rakish.  “You sure this is only a nap?”

I stand up from the couch and run my hand down his back.  “I bet you could convince me to have it be more.”


	12. Chapter 12

_August_

_-Pidge-_

 

I'm regretting this trip already, and we haven't even left Utah yet.

Of course Dawn would come down with a cold right before we left for a two-week trip off-world. Which is sort of my fault, I caught it from somewhere and brought it home. I'm better already, but my baby isn't. I was really hoping those breastmilk antibodies would do something more for her.

Her pediatrician saw her two days ago, when her symptoms hadn't gotten better after 24 hours, and after a couple tests said it's not dangerous but she'll be uncomfortable until it runs its course in a few more days. She's snotty and coughing, and the coughing means she's spitting up all the time, and the snot means she's colicky, even though we're trying to clear her nose as much as we can. All of which adds up to an uncomfortable baby, and an uncomfortable baby means parents who are frazzled as shit.

She was doing well this afternoon when we got everything into the car and set off, but when we arrived at the spaceport she woke up and started screaming. I wish I knew what’s wrong so I could make it better, but the way she keeps touching her forehead and ear makes me think it's sinus pressure, and in thirty-six years of life even I haven't figured that one out. Poor kid just had to get the Holt sinuses, didn't she?

She seems to be doing all right now that Hunk has her wrapped up tight and is bouncing slightly and singing under his breath, but she's still making little snotty noises and he reaches into the sling every couple of minutes with a tissue.

Luckily, Alteans are immune to most human viruses, so at least we don't have to worry about Coran and Allura catching it from her, since we'll be in fairly close quarters with them for most of this time. And Coran figures that Balmerans are probably immune as well, which is a relief because Shay has been absolutely _begging_ us to bring the baby to see her ever since we told her we were expecting and I think she'd implode if she didn't get to hold Dawn when we finally get there.

We were lucky to be able to come up with a sort-of official reason for us to go traveling before the academic year starts up again, when I'll be driving myself absolutely insane trying to go back to work. We're doubly lucky that the timing worked for the rest of the old gang, so we're really getting the band back together for this. It would be nice if Dawn was a bit older, but we think we've got everything planned carefully enough that it won't be much more tiring than being at home -- and we'll have lots of eager help, for however much good that will be.

Shiro and Matt meet us at the spaceport, and after cooing over Dawn for a minute (which they always do, and she clearly loves their attention) we're finally underway.

Our ship is waiting in low orbit, a smallish passenger vessel with a crew of half a dozen, mostly Galra. I'm a little surprised at how ... not-royal it is, since Allura is with us, but I guess this is an inconspicuous kind of trip for her. It'll take us a little over a day to get there, since we're not traveling by teludav.

Keith and Lance are already aboard, along with Coran and Allura and their two assistants, a young Galra girl (or at least, she looks young) who I haven't met before, and a middle-aged Talaxian called Mel who's been in Allura's service for seven years now and knows all of us nearly as well as we know each other, although none of us really know anything about them. I don't even think Mel is their proper name, but that's what Allura calls them.

The usual greetings fly right out the window when we get on the ship, because there are four people here who haven't met the baby yet and she's clearly the absolute highest priority. She seems interested and alert, so Hunk takes her out of the sling to say hello, and she smiles and burbles happily at all of the attention. She learned to smile a week ago and clearly loves it -- and she looks just like Hunk when she does it, she's so _obviously_ his daughter, which is everything I could ever dream of.

After a few minutes she's getting overwhelmed, though, and I take her before she starts to cry and hold her head to my breast; she presses her face into me and grabs my shirt and I know she needs a feeding to calm down. Hunk slides his arm around my waist, holding both of us, giving us a tiny little bubble of calm.

And then Coran says those words I've been dying to hear out of someone:

"Hunk, Pidge, you both look like you haven't slept in an Earth week."

"Tell me about it," I groan, and Dawn sniffles against me.

"Yeah," Hunk sighs, handing me a tissue. "It's been probably ... three days? Since either of us slept more than a couple hours. Ever since Dawn fell sick."

"Give her to me," Matt says. "You guys both _really_ need some sleep. Uncle Matt is here with the cavalry, and little Dawnie is always great for me."

"You sure?" I say. "She's still sick. I had this cold, the sinus thing was pretty gnarly."

"I know, you told me." He grins. "I've got Sudafed in case I catch it from her."

"Wish I'd have been able to have Sudafed," I grumble, but I’ve been convinced.  Dawn is always happy with Matt, he’s a fabulous babysitter.

"I would absolutely _love_ to catch some sleep," Hunk says. "And we'll need it for the trip."

"Want to be fresh for Shay?" I tease, bumping him with my elbow, and he looks down at me with a warm smile.

"Of course. And so do you. It's been years since we saw her.  We don't want to look like _this_ if we can help it."

"Well, yeah, okay." I look down at Dawn. "Why don't we settle in a little, I'll feed her and then we'll pass her on for some Uncle Matt time, if she doesn't just sleep through it."

So we find our room, which is small and sterile but at least it's quiet, and there's a little cot on casters for Dawn and a couple of armchairs. Hunk puts down all of our stuff -- there's _so much stuff_ with the baby, we used to be able to go away for two weeks with just a duffel bag between us -- and I settle into one of the less-than-comfortable chairs as soon as Hunk pulls out my nursing cushion. Dawn's clearly hungry, which I guess is a good sign. She's not happy when I make her pause, but she lets out a good burp and only spits up a little.

When I'm done Hunk takes her, and he changes her while I rinse off the travel grit in the shower and get into my pajamas. Then Hunk gives me a kiss, and I give one to Dawn, and he takes her and a big bag and her car seat to hand her off to Matt for the night.

I get into bed, and I intend to read my book until Hunk gets back -- I've been trying to read the same couple of chapters of this fantasy novel for the last month -- but I don't even make it a page before I can't keep my eyes open.

 

_-Hunk-_

I wake up confused, fuzzy-headed, in a bed that's too hard and too cold and doesn't smell like my wife.

I roll over and find my phone on the table next to the bed -- it's the middle of the night, I've been asleep for nine hours. Pidge was out like a light when I got back from taking Dawn to her uncles, with her paperback book lying open on her chest. I took the book from her and turned out the light before I got into bed myself, and I only wished a little that we could have had even a little time awake together before the exhaustion took me too.

Pidge isn't here now. The bedclothes are rumpled where she was lying beside me, but she and her glasses are gone.

I drag myself out of bed, pull my bathrobe out of my bag and wrap it around myself before I head out into the corridor. There's a lounge at the end of the hall in this model of passenger ship, so I head there. Probably someone is still awake, and they'll know where Pidge and Dawn are, and I’m sure they’re together. I know neither of them could have gone far, but Dawn has barely been out of my sight for the entire nine weeks of her life so far, so this is a little weird.

Coran is at a table in the lounge with his Galra assistant, Varna, and her furry ears perk up as soon as I come in. She makes a noise that's too soft for me to hear, and Coran looks up from his work. "Ah, Hunk! You've rejoined the land of the living."

"Yeah.  I'm looking for Pidge and Dawn?"

He gives me a gentle smile. "Of course you are. Pidge came through here not long ago and relieved Matt of his babysitting, then she went with Allura to nurse the baby. They're in the princess's room."

It's ridiculous to feel so relieved by that, but I do anyway. "Which one is that?"

Coran looks at Varna, who nods and gets up. "I'll take you."

 

Allura’s head pops when I step into the room, and she gives me a bright smile. "Hello, Hunk. We wondered when we'd see you."

Pidge has Dawn at her breast, and glances up at me. "Hey. Sorry I just left, I didn't want to wake you. My boobs were achy."

"That's fine, I understand." I cross the room and sit down next to Pidge on the couch. "How is she?"

Pidge nods. "Good. Hungry now, which isn't surprising."

"She slept a lot of the time," Allura says. "Matt fed her and changed her a few hours in, and played with her for a little bit before she went back to sleep."

I touch the back of Dawn's head with my fingers, and she makes a little noise around Pidge's nipple. "Good girl."

"So I've been meaning to ask," Allura says, leaning her arm over the back of the couch and leveling an inquisitive look at me. "Why did you decide to grow a beard?"

The question surprises me -- to be honest, nobody has asked me that, not even Pidge. I rub my chin. "Well, it wasn't really a decision at first, things were just so crazy right after Dawn was born that I didn't even think about shaving for three weeks, and there it was."

Pidge laughs gently. "And then you decided to keep it."

"Well, yeah. I like not shaving, and you think it's sexy."

"That's not a secret."

"Matt said you look like a _hot dad_ with it," Allura says. "I didn't understand what he meant at first, but now that I've seen you I think I do."

Pidge laughs again, louder, and it's enough to jostle the baby, who makes an annoyed sound at having her night lunch interrupted. I honestly haven't been totally sure about the way I look with the beard; it came in sort of weirdly, not patchy but different-colored in different areas of my face. The left side is distinctly salt-and-pepper, while the right side is darker with only scattered white. It was sort of disappointing, actually, since the streaks of grey at my temples are symmetrical. But Pidge is really into it, and Dawn seems to find the texture fascinating, so I think I'll keep it. For a while, anyway.

"So why'd you name her Dawn?" Allura says, looking at Pidge. "I distinctly remember you saying once that sunsets _just happen_ all the time and there's nothing special about them."

Pidge laughs, and glances at me. "Hunk might have brought me around."

Allura grins at us. "Might he."

" _Maybe_ ," I say. "She's still not really interested in watching them."

"I'll admit there are beautiful things in the natural world," Pidge says. "Symbolic beauty, too. And Dawn is such a pretty word, it's romantic. I wanted to give it to something that actually meant that much to me." She looks down at the baby, touches her cheek; our daughter is looking sleepy and sated now, and has given up on Pidge's nipple entirely, now content to just lean against her skin.

"A beginning?" Allura murmurs.

"Exactly." It's barely more than an exhalation. "You know, as Voltron we freed so many people, we made the universe a much better place. We fought tooth and nail, and now her generation gets to grow up in this new paradigm. It's still kind of ... I'm not used to peacetime.  Even after so long."

"Neither am I," Allura says. "I wish I was."

"I sometimes have dreams that we're still fighting," I say. "That all of this is the dream, that we're still paladins."

"Me too," Pidge says.

We're all quiet for a long minute, until Dawn makes a little snotty sound in her sleep. Pidge shifts the baby, covers her breast and then slouches down a bit and lays Dawn on her shoulder. I fish a half-used tissue out of the pocket of my robe, and the baby doesn't wake when I wipe her nose.

"Poor thing," Allura murmurs.

"Was she okay earlier?" I ask.

"She did pretty well. Slept a lot, got a lot of cuddles. She didn't want to take the bottle, though."

Pidge smiles gently. "She knows what she likes."

"Coran was the one who got her to eat," Allura says. "Until then I'd forgotten he's the only one of us who's had any experience with babies, even if it was ten thousand years ago."

Pidge looks up at her. "Do you ever think about it? Having your own kids?"

Allura gets an odd look on her face. "Yes. But ... also no? I mean ... I feel like I'm not ready, and I think sometimes that I never will be." She folds her arm on the back of the couch and leans her cheek on it. "Any child of mine would have to be half-something. It's been done, obviously, but at the same time, it's a whole ... baggage sort of thing. Coran and I are the last of our species, and it's such a tremendous burden to bear. I'm not sure if I could do that to a child.  Plus I’d be a single parent, which isn’t something I’m _remotely_ interested in doing."

Pidge nods, and her eyes flick towards me.  “Yeah. I’d never have done this without Hunk.”

“I think I probably _could_ do it alone, but I wouldn't want to.  I’m glad I don’t have to.”  I touch her hair, smoothing her fringe to the side, off her forehead.  “I’m glad you’re Dawn’s mom.”

Allura makes a little sighing sound.  “I’m impressed that you’ve both decided to take this trip with her, considering she’s still so very young.”

“Yeah, but.”  Pidge shrugs.  “She’s old enough, she can smile and we know that she likes people, so we can understand when she doesn’t like something and she won’t get super stressed.  It’s going to be tough but I think, on balance, it’s worth it.”

I nod.  “If nothing else, the memories will be spectacular.”

Pidge shifts to lean into me just a bit.  “If we get any sleep.  Won't remember shit if our brains are fried.”

I can’t help giggling.  “Well, that’s what pictures are for.”

“And we’re all here to help with Dawn,” Allura says.  “You know she’ll be safe with any of us, you can get the sleep you need.”

Pidge yawns, and it’s very difficult to resist the urge to do the same.  “Yeah, speaking of,” she says, “I really want to get back into bed.”

“Me too.  We can take Dawn with us, I think.”

“You think she’ll keep sleeping?” Allura says, and I shrug, then gently lift the baby off Pidge’s shoulder.

“For a bit, probably.  Couple hours.”

“That would be enough,” Pidge says, pushing herself up and rubbing her eyes, which skews her glasses.  “Thanks for giving me a place to nurse her, Allura.”

“Of course.”

I nestle Dawn against my chest, and stand up carefully; Pidge gets to her feet with a little difficulty, picks up the car seat by its handle and then lays her hand on my back.  “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

"Oh, wait just a minute," Allura says, and we hesitate while she goes to the table in the corner and picks up a couple of small packages wrapped in white paper.  "I almost forgot, I saved you some dinner, since you were sleeping.  They're just sandwiches, but they're good."

Pidge takes them from her.  "Oh my god, thank you."

Allura smiles gently sees us to the door.  “Sleep well, you three.  I'll make sure you're up a varga or so before we arrive.”

We murmur something in response, I’m not sure what exactly because my brain has already zoned in on going back to sleep.  It only takes a minute to shuffle back to our room, and Pidge sits down in a chair and unwraps a sandwich while I put Dawn down in her cot.  She wakes for a minute, starts to fuss, but she quiets when I bend down and sing softly while I cover her up to her belly with the day’s makeshift blanket, which is actually the t-shirt I wore yesterday.  Or -- whatever day it was.  The one before we left home.  I don’t quite know what day it is, either by Salt Lake City reckoning, or at our destination on the Balmera.  Interstellar jet lag is quite a thing.

I check her one more time as her eyes drift shut, pay attention to her breathing -- it’s easy and quiet, not snotty or wheezing, _finally._  That may change in an hour, but it’s definitely good for now.

I pick up the other sandwich and sit on the foot of the bed.  I'm so tired, but I'm also  _starving_ , so sitting upright for another few minutes while I eat is probably a good choice.  And it's a delicious sandwich, even if it's not warm any more.  It's gone before I know it, and Pidge collects our wrappers while I get back into bed.

She turns out the light, slides between the sheets and immediately snuggles up behind me.  "I love you."

For the first time since we left home, I feel at ease.  I wrap my hand around hers and let sleep pull me down.  "I love you too."


	13. Chapter 13

_-Pidge-_

 

The others leave the ship first, heading out onto the surface of the Balmera, but Hunk and I take longer with all of the baby's things. It's an undertaking, even though Matt took some of it for us, and when we finally step out onto the surface everyone else is a bit ahead, already being greeted by our hosts.

Shay's face does something odd as soon as she sees us, but after a moment she's back to her delighted expression as she lets go of Allura and jogs across the tarmac to greet us. She hugs Hunk first, then turns to me and the baby like she can't believe her eyes. "This is your child."

I grin at her. "Yup. This is Dawn." I hold out my arm to hug her, and she gives me a gentle embrace, though she keeps her entire attention on the baby.

"She is ... much smaller than I expected."

Hunk laughs. "She's actually really big for a human baby."

"You humans are all very small," Shay says. "And fragile. I hope that I did not injure her?"

"No, no, she's fine." I look down at the baby, who's staring at Shay with big, wide eyes. "She's very interested in you, though."

"Come inside," Shay says, turning and putting her claw on my shoulder; she’s suddenly official in a sort of forced way. "We have new construction since you were last here, above-ground dwellings. Once you are settled baby Dawn will have more chances to see what we are like here on the Balmera."

Shay leads our party inside, and the new construction here is really beautiful, sleek and clean but obviously thematically related to their other buildings -- it’s come such a long way since we were here the first time, it almost doesn’t seem like the same place at all. We're all staying in a suite of apartments with big, bright windows, and Shay gives us an hour to get settled. She comes back just as I've gotten comfortable on the couch in our big common area. I have Dawn dozing on my chest, so Hunk gets up to let Shay in when she knocks.

She looks at me with a bright smile. "Do you find this space comfortable?"

"Yeah, for sure. Come on in, sit down."

She follows Hunk in, and they sit down on either side of me. Shay clearly can't take her eyes off the baby, who has woken up a little now and is calmly watching her right back.  I sit up a bit, and sit Dawn up on the cushion on my lap, turned around so she can watch our guest more easily

"She is beautiful."

"She is," Hunk agrees.

"You know we named her because of you," I say softly, and Shay nods, emotion welling on her face before she seems to get a handle on it.

"Yes, you told me when we spoke." She makes a strange noise, I guess her species's version of a sniffle, and wipes at her eyes. "She ... she is so _tiny._ I knew she was small from the photograph that you sent on the day of her birth, but it did not convey how small she truly is." She glances up at Hunk. "You said that she is large, for a human baby?"

He nods. "Yeah, she was so big we were almost afraid she couldn't be born the natural way. And she's bigger now than she was when she was born, obviously."

Shay gets a look of understanding. "I researched human birth, it is very different than how we reproduce. Was the natural way not painful?"

"Unbelievably painful," I say. "And my body will never be the same again. You probably don't want to know the extent of my injuries."

She nods sympathetically. "Did it affect Hunk's body also?"

He looks at her, then at me. "I mean ... not nearly as much. I didn't have to grow her inside me."

Shay seems confused. "It did not cause this fur to grow on your face?"

I burst out laughing, and Hunk turns bright red and tries to hide behind his hands. "Oh my god."

Shay is even more confused now. "I do not understand, why is this humorous?"

"God, you're really not a mammal," I gasp, still laughing.

"This is a beard," Hunk says, rubbing his cheek. "It grows in naturally for a lot of humans, about half. Most of my life I've been shaving it off but I stopped after Dawn arrived because I've just been too busy."

"I have seen it on some other humans," Shay says. "I did not know what caused it."

“Just a particular balance of hormones,” Hunk explains quickly.

"Do you like it?" I say, eyeing Shay sideways.

She makes a sort of grimace. "I mean no offense, but I do not find it pleasing."

I laugh again, and Hunk scoots closer to me. "I'm not offended," he says, chuckling and still blushing.

"More for me," I say. "I think it's hot."

I reach up and skritch the edge of his jaw, the bearded part of his cheek, and he goes limp for half a moment. "Hey, careful."

"What?"

He brushes a kiss to my cheek.  "Not in front of the Klingons."

I laugh, and Shay smiles at us, seeming now to relax. "You have done so much since the last time you came here to visit me."

"Growing a beard doesn't really count as _doing something_ ," Hunk says, and Shay’s smile broadens.

"You know that is not what I meant."

“I guess making a baby is doing something,” I say, looking back down at Dawn -- she’s still staring at Shay.

“Parenting is definitely _doing something_ ,” Shay says.  “I am so honored that you would go to such difficulty to bring her here to see me, while she is still so young and dependent on you for everything.”

“You’re worth it,” Hunk murmurs, leaning close enough to me that I can feel his body warmth.  He puts his arm on the back of the couch, around my shoulders.  “With everything you’ve done for us, how could we even think of not letting you be part of this?”

Shay’s eyes are beginning to look watery again; she’s distinctly verklempt, but there’s an edge of something else too.  “You did not have to do this for me.  I am -- I am not her family, I am merely someone from your past.  A friend.”

My breath catches as I see below Shay’s genial surface; she has a deep inner life that she never, _never_ lets anyone see.  Not even Hunk.  "You really don't know how important you are, do you?" I breathe.

She looks at me, surprised but guarded.  “I am not so important.”

"Shay, you're _vital_.”  I grab her claw with my hand, and she squeezes back instantly.  “It's because of you that Hunk dedicated himself to team Voltron. And without that, none of us would be here. Dawn wouldn't exist. She owes her life to you."

Shay has a distinctly anguished look her face, and she’s clutching my hand and quietly trembling.  I think she’d be crying if that were a thing her species did.  "I truly did not know."

"We want you to be Dawn’s godmother," Hunk says.

Her eyes flick up to him.  "God-mother?"

"It's a traditional thing on Earth," I explain. "It was religious originally, though it's not so much anymore. It's become secular."

Shay looks from me to Hunk, clearly still lost. "I do not understand."

"What it means," Hunk says, "is that we want you to be part of her immediate family, we want you to be an important part of her life."

Shay grips my hand even harder.  “Her family?”

“Our family.”  Hunk reaches over and sets his big hand atop mine and Shay’s.  “Not that it means we’ll be able to see each other more often than we do, but it means we’ll never stop trying to spend time together.  All four of us.  Dawn will grow up knowing that you’re special to her, that you would do anything to protect her.”

“I will,” Shay says, determined but still overwhelmed with emotion.  She lets go of me and reaches tentatively toward Dawn, who extends a chubby arm and grabs her claw with obvious delight.  “Anything that I can do to ease her way in the world, I will do.  She will know that she is deeply loved.”

Dawn makes a happy _Aaaaaaaa!_ sound, waving her little arms while still clutching Shay’s hand.  Shay’s face breaks into an enormous grin.  “Yes, you are.”

“Do you want to hold her?” I murmur, and Shay looks at me in surprise.

“Could I?”

“Don’t see why not, she’s not afraid or anything.”

“I would be delighted to hold her.”

So I pick up Dawn off my lap, and Hunk helps guide Shay’s hands to support her, and then Shay is cradling my baby against her chest, with Dawn’s tiny brown hands excitedly clutching the front of her tunic as Shay beams down at her.

“Never has there been a more precious child,” Shay says, almost under her breath, and I get the distinct feeling that there’s more to that phrase than I know, that it holds some deep meaning.  I glance at Hunk, who gives me a miniscule nod of agreement.

“Does that mean something?” he asks, equally soft.

Shay glances up for a moment, before she turns her attention right back to the baby.  “It is a part of our naming ceremony for new children.  Mere words, in so many cases, but they came to me now.”  She takes a breath, shuddering just a little.  “You are to be called Dawn, named for the day of freedom and a symbol of hope.  You are forever one of our people.”

“Aa?” Dawn says, and Shay laughs, delighted.  “She even did the correct response,” she says, glancing at me and Hunk.  “I am family to her now, she has accepted.”

My heart swells, and tears well in my eyes as Hunk tightens his arm around me.  Dawn kicks her legs, squirming happily, and Shay rocks her.

“I guess this means we should take her to see the place?” Hunk says.  “See what the Balmera is all about.”

“She must meet others,” Shay says.  “I am relieved that she is not afraid of me, I am now comfortable to take her out among the rest of my people.  Everyone has been excited to see the Paladins of Voltron again, and to find what a human baby is like.”

She holds Dawn out to me, but I pass her off to Hunk, who is going to wear the carrier.  Dawn doesn’t seem sure about leaving Shay’s arms at first, but she relaxes immediately when her father takes her.

“All right,” he says, standing up and giving Dawn a good bounce, which makes her gurgle happily.  “You ready for an adventure, kiddo?”


End file.
